Two middle-aged ladies wandered in to a branch of a well-known booksellers. Helmet-coiffed and enthusiastically made up, they marched straight up to the counter."We're looking for Caring for the Suicidal."
I looked down at the grubby keyboard. My fingers tapped and there it was: Caring for the Suicidal. It was in print, but we would have to order it.
"How long?" the second lady asked.
"Two weeks."
They looked at each other and then at me. "Too late," they chimed and walked out.