The rain was drumming a relentless beat against the windshield of Leo’s old sedan as he pulled into the driveway. He reached up, his thumb finding the familiar, worn button of the garage remote clipped to the sun visor. Click. Nothing. Only the rhythmic sweep of the wipers.
He knew he couldn't just walk into a grocery store and hope for the best; these things usually took those little silver coins that looked like pirate treasure for ants. He did a quick mental scan of his best options: where to buy garage remote batteries
With a splash, he backed out of the driveway, already imagining the satisfying thrum of the garage door lifting to let him in. The rain was drumming a relentless beat against
He shifted the car back into reverse. The hardware store was only ten minutes away. He’d grab a two-pack—one for the remote and one for the "junk drawer" for the next time the sky decided to open up. Nothing
: If he could wait until Tuesday, Amazon would ship a five-pack to his door for the price of one battery at the store. But looking at the downpour outside, Leo didn't want to wait until Tuesday.
: CVS or Walgreens usually had a small "office and electronics" section. It was a gamble, but it saved him a trip across town.
"Right," he muttered, reaching for his phone. "Time for a new ."