The usual was the Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7 logo.
Lyle never printed another one. But late that night, he taped the smeared half-sheet to his refrigerator, right next to his daughter’s crayon drawing.
Every Thursday, old man Hargrove would shuffle in, slide a sheet of glossy sticker paper across the counter, and say the same thing: "The usual, Lyle."
He realized then why the county's internet went down every Thursday at 4 p.m. Why the ATF had visited twice asking about "label stock." And why Hargrove’s shed had no rust at all — but had a steel door with a biometric lock behind the tobacco rack.