Then resigned. Then suspicious. Which, frankly, feels fair.
Jillie runs straight toward me, her boots squeaking against the polished floor.
"You shop here too?"
"Apparently."
She looks into my basket. "That's not enough food."
"It's strategic."
"It's sad."
Mrs. Bellamy makes a delighted noise beside me.
Sadie reaches us a moment later, slightly breathless and very much trying not to look around at the dozens of people pretending not to watch us.
"Jillie," she says, "we do not run through grocery stores."
"I didn't run through the whole store. Just the important part."
"That is not better."
Jillie points at my basket. "Colby needs help."
Sadie glances down.
Coffee. One carton of eggs I picked up without noticing. No bread.
Her mouth twitches.
"That's your grocery shopping?"
"I had a list."
"Did the list say bachelor sadness?"
Mrs. Bellamy coughs into her glove. I look at Sadie. "I resent that."
"Do you?"
"Somewhat."
Jillie takes my basket from my hand with enormous purpose.
"We can help."
"No," Sadie and I say at the exact same time.
Jillie beams.
"You said it together again."
Sadie closes her eyes.
I look toward the ceiling and silently request a trade to a city where nobody knows what brand of coffee I buy.
Too soon. Definitely too soon.
