At the register, I realized I had forgotten Parmesan.
I nearly left without it. Going back meant passing her aisle again, and I was suddenly concerned about looking like the kind of man who turned a decent act into an excuse to linger. Then I reminded myself that cheese was a legitimate reason to enter the dairy section. I could buy it without performing a second accidental meeting.
On my way back to the front, she looked up from a stock cart.
Our eyes met.
She smiled immediately.
I lifted
