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The Way He Looked at Me

The Way He Looked at Me

We went through every aisle with our fingers interlaced and our chins level Cool Ranch Doritos, ice cream, flavored coffee creamer until we reached the register. The cashier was a woman in her fifties, the kind of face that had lived fully and wasn't bothered about showing it. She looked at both of us without hesitation. "Hope your day's been a good one," she said. Ordinary. Easy. Like us standing there together required no commentary. Something loosened between my shoulder blades. "It has, thanks," Tim told her. "Just grabbing what we've been missing." She glanced into the cart and raised one eyebrow at the cereal.
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