I was wearing fashion boots and grey leggings that double up as jammie bottoms on cold winter nights.
Her hair was cute, and short- dyed a funky, unnatural colour that made her look fun-loving without appearing desperate. Her clothes were understated, but artistic.
I'd been too tired to shower in the morning.
She studied the sodium content in her canned lentils while she waited patiently behind me.
I had to apologize for holding up the line. My yellow brand taco chips, bulk discounted oranges, and four boxes of feminine hygiene products had clogged up both conveyer belts.
She didn't need a cart.
My boots clicked busily and the knees of my jammie tights began elephanting around my knees as I hustled the tuna, flats of tomato soup, multiple loaves of bread, and XL bag of pretzels back into place.
~how long the 16 litres of milk would last.
~Whether mac and cheese would eventually be outlawed.
~if it were possible to put both bunches of bananas on the table without turning my day kids into ravenous monkeys.
~whether $298.00 in groceries would mean that there was anything to eat for lunch the next day?
While she fingered her