“Hi.”
Erica looked up from staring at the glass. She’d zoned out, the kind of zoning out you do when you look at something long enough and start to not look at it anymore but look through it.
The kind of zoning out we all do when we need a short brain nap. We all need those.
“Hi?” She said, more to wake herself out of the little mental break than to the source of the voice.
“Hi,” the source of the voice said, smiling.
Hmm. It was a he. And the he had a nice smile.
Erica looked from his face to his shopping cart, because quietly examining the contents of other peoples’ grocery carts is what all of us do in a grocery store. Organic crackers. Pasta. Cereal. Milk. La Croix. Toilet paper. A bottle of grocery store boxed wine. It was a full cart, which probably meant he was shopping for more than just himself. A family?
Erica looked over at her own shopping cart. Similarly common stuff, just less of it. Paper towels. Vegetables. Fruit. And diapers. Lots of diapers. She was out of diapers for Logan. And in the shopping cart seat, Logan, 8 months old, was sticking a plastic ketchup bottle into his mouth as far as it would go.