The fluorescent lights of the LiquorZone buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the rows of wine and cheap whiskey. Thabo leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone. It had been a quiet Tuesday. Too quiet.

The kid froze. “What’s that?”

He remembered when they just looked at pictures. When a confident smile and a laminated card were enough to sell a six-pack to a seventeen-year-old. Not anymore.