I was pretty sure this was the place.
Behind the coffee shop, and around the corner from the tattoo studio,
it was small and indiscrete.
Had it been dark out, I would have easily missed it.
I pulled into the alley, between the short row of red, brick buildings,
and parked the car.
And, I am not sure if it was the way that I was dressed,
or the desperate and determined look in my eyes . . . BUT,
as he appeared from the back room, he seemed to know exactly what I came for.
He showed me his stash.
“This is IT?” I asked.
“Everybody wants some,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
I stood back and looked at his goods, assessing the size, the quality, and the shape.
“Do you have anything . . . uglier?” I asked.
“The ugliest are the first to go,” he responded.
“We have uglier ones coming in next week.”
“Okay,” I said. “I will come back then.”
With a nod and half a smile, he returned to the back room.
As I exited through the door, the sign dangled to and fro.
WE HAVE UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS.
