While not entirely refreshed, Mason felt cleaner, at least.  He walked out of the store wearing new—and a bit itchy—jeans and t-shirt, and had even purchased new sneakers and socks.  The others were old anyway, and too soaked to wear.  He tossed the bundle of wet clothes in a trash bin outside the store, and flagged a cab.  Most of those passing were full, but one pulled to a stop in front of him, and he crawled inside.

“Pentagon City Mall, please,” he said to the driver.

The man turned his head, looking over his shoulder, and said, “If you just want to shop, there are closer places.  And if your heart’s set on Pentagon City, you can take the subway for less.”

“That’s okay,” Mason said, “I’m gonna need...

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