ice pack beside the sink and smiled before I remembered the argument.
By Sunday afternoon, I genuinely needed groceries.
I made a list to prove it to nobody in particular. Lunch ingredients, coffee, apples, dish soap. I stood in my kitchen checking the refrigerator, then caught myself considering which shirt looked most appropriate for purchasing detergent.
That was enough to make me leave in the shirt I was already wearing.
The supermarket was busy. Carts blocked the produce section, someone had abandoned a shopping list beside the onions, and a
