By noon, the driveway is only shadow and price stickers. A small man bends the straps of flip flops twice his size, asking again for less. A mother and son test both bikes, nod, and walk them away side by side. “My elderly neighbor walks everywhere,'' says the woman paying for the cooling hat in quarters. We take fifty for the three-hundred-dollar dresser. Four children wait inside the van while two more sleep across the back seat. A dude with sweat pasted to his forehead grins at the price of little-girl panties, then drives away with an empty back seat. “We should watch the news and check the apps more,” she says later. We pull the kids close around the laptop, on the floor. Tonight is our last movie night here. A fairytale fish longs to keep its head above water.