Mr. Zimmerman came out from behind his counter. He came closer to Angela and frowned down at her.
“So your problems would be solved if you got yourself home at a reasonable time, young lady? Is that right?” he asked.
Angela nodded. She should have been asleep at home in her bed for hours by now. Her head felt too tired to hold up. It also felt full of all the new things she’d seen in the night Market. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.
Adam Zimmerman didn’t seem bothered by her troubles at all. “Well, that’s not such a big problem,” he said.
Angela’s eyebrows rose. “It’s impossible! I don’t even know how to get home this late. All the buses are on their night runs and I don’t have money for a taxi,” she groaned. “My mom and dad are going to kill me.”
It was Mr. Zimmerman’s turn to look surprised. His brows shot up almost out of sight. “Would they? Would they really?”
“What?” Angela asked.
“Kill you?” He shook his head. “My, my, my. That does seem a bit harsh to my way of thinking.”
“No! I… I didn’t mean… It’s just a way of speaking,” Angela said. “You must have heard something like that before.”
“No, no, can’t say I have.” Adam Zimmerman stroked his beard as it changed from brown to gray to brown. “But then, I haven’t been out there in quite some time. No matter! To the business at hand, I say!”