stood with his
back to the door (right at the door) while you perused the merchandise as he eyed you over his dark rimbed Buddy Holly spectacles, and kept patting his fat belly overwhich his suit jacket would hardly button, occasionally flicking the cigar that dipped to one side out
of his pursed lips... eyeing your every move, and he had no intentions
of stepping aside from that door
until you had decided to buy SOMETHING, even if it was just a cushion instead
of the
sofa.