"Let's see..." pondered Jack. Then he remembered it. Cette! He wrote "cette" on a piece of paper.
"I was coming from the cette..." continued Jack, trying to remember the events and how he would phrase them. Vague, asynchronous memories flitted around in his mind's eye, something about a back office, something about a hole over by where the makeup aisle bordered the grocery section. He flipped up a small, electronic device out of its slot. The effeminate male that had accompanied him stood talking to a group of people.
"I only shake hands with people I'm close to. I'm sick," explained the effeminate male. Jack looked at him, trying to remember they'd shaken hands. The young man offered his hand, which Jack shook with some discomfort.
