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For A Second, I Really Thought The Old Man In Aisle Four Was Having Some Kind Of Medical Emergency. He Was Standing In Front Of The Pasta Sauce With A Torn Scrap Of Paper In His Hand, Staring At The Shelves Like They Had Turned Into A Test He Had No Idea How To Pass. Carts Kept Rattling By, A Toddler Was Crying Somewhere Near The Cereal, And A Man In A Ball Cap Reached Around Him, Grabbed A Jar, And Muttered, “Come On, Buddy,” Like This Poor Man Was Just Another Obstacle In The Middle Of Everybody Else’s Saturday.
I thought the old man in aisle four was dying until I saw he was clutching his dead wife’s grocery note. He was standing in...
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