apart, breathing hard, her fingers wrapped around my arm.
For a moment, all I could see were her eyes.
Brown. Wide. Angry with shock.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
I looked at the carton, then at her.
“I think dinner has become more complicated.”
She stared at me for half a second before a startled laugh escaped her. Then she looked upward, and the laugh vanished. The shelf above her still held two more cartons.
We moved away together.
An employee appeared at the end of the aisle, followed by
