One of the stores, a soap and candle and beauty supplies store, isn’t too full, so we go in and take a look around at shelves full of soft, matte spheres and ovals of soap, egg-shaped bath bombs in tasteful shades of lavender and off-white that foam when you drop them in hot water, candles squatting in decoratively rustic ceramic cradles, and wide, open-ended glass cylinders full of fragrant herbs.
The woman behind the counter leans over and casually says, “You can take your mask down to smell anything, of course.”
I give Katie a look, and we beat a hasty retreat.
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