fugazi-book

It is in an area of town that most avoid, a tattered store with a water-stained sign, never repainted, and a brass bell more brown than bright that clangs dully when a customer walks in. The shelves stock only one product in myriad tiny variations, stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling. In this dank and ruined store, behind the paint-peeling frontage and crusted glass, they only sell one product: miracles.