The man behind the counter at the hardware store looked at me doubtfully as I laid the two pieces of what had been a brand new axe before him. It had taken precisely one swing to shear the blade clean off, otherwise it was pristine.
"One swing?" he asked again, and I nodded.
"No sales receipt?" he asked again and I shook my head.
"Well," he pondered, "I'll have to get the manager." I shrugged.
The manager appeared in good time and looked at the axe cautiously, as if the pieces might suddenly leap back together again. He touched the blade with one fingertip and ran his hand down the length of the handle.
"Never seen that happen before." he said and I agreed. "Oughtn't to have broke like that." he said and I agreed again. "I'll get the owner." he said and I sighed. I knew better than to risk a glance at my watch.
The owner examined the axe briefly. "I'll be damned." he said and I felt a stirring of hope. He picked up both pieces and threw them into a nearby trash can, wiped his hands on his apron. "Get her a new axe." he said and my heart soared.
"Wood," he said with a shake of his head and a sorrowful expression, "It just isn't what it used to be."
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