Sunday and Monday, the days the costume shop was closed, passed as they usually did for Mark, with the exception of the fact he had to clean up after the party and put all the furniture back where it belonged. As he did his Sunday grocery shopping, he considered the idea of having another get-together with his friends. Not next weekend, but maybe the following one, and this time I’ll cook rather than ordering pizza.
Tuesday, after the shop was open for business—what there was of it in mid-January—Norma corralled him while he was refilling the displays of masks and other small items they sold.
“We all had a great time Saturday night, so I’m all for doing it again, at my place,” she said.
Mark shot her an amused look. “And here I was going to suggest the same thing, but at my apartment.”
