Copyright 2009 Christopher Setterlund
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“I’ll give you twenty-five bucks for the tv,” the short, dirty man said from behind the counter. He held the nineteen-inch color television in his hands. His stubby, greasy fingers were barely able to keep the appliance from crashing down onto the glass counter of the pawn shop which held an array of cameras and knives. David Andrews looked sadly toward his brother Stanley; he knew they were not going to get a better deal from any of the other pawn shops in Las Vegas.