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He remembers this one
Short black hair and big earrings
Tight top
He hands her two limp twenties which she
Dumps in the register
Looking through him

She was six months ago
Before that one girl, after what was her name
With the blonde ponytail
She was eager and energetic
Touched a lot
Which he stopped by holding down her hands

She gives him the bag of clothes
Two shirts
One with stripes and one with a surfboard or something
And he suddenly ceases to exist in her world
She is helping the next customer
He walks through the exit into the busy corridor

Every time he sees one he recognizes it is the same
Just as every new one is not really new
He takes the top
He makes the motions
And moments later lies beside them
Smelling his own cologne

His phone rings and he sighs in terror
As a gasping voice recites the name of his son