The werewolf put the guitar on the counter.
"What do you want for it?" the cashier asked, like there wasn't a werewolf in front of him.
"I dunno, a hundred bucks?" the werewolf guessed.
No one knew she was a werewolf. She just looked like a person. Like a average ass person. Hair, shoulders, eyeballs.
Just a person.
"We can probably do a hundo," said the clerk.
"I'm not a werewolf," she said.
"What?"
"Oh. ...I'll take it."
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