It was almost a month later when I saw them in the supermarket. I like to do my shopping at night, when the stores aren’t full of people, when the aisles are clear and you can take your time. A young woman turned into the aisle ahead of me, a girl with a sweatshirt and blue jeans and fuzzy blue house shoes. I wouldn’t be caught dead out like that. There was a little girl with yellow hair sitting in the cart, and she was reaching out for everything they passed. The woman slapped at the child’s hands like an automatic reaction, without even looking. I watched them for a while. And then I went on past them. I wanted to finish and get out of the store quickly, as soon as possible, before it was too late. Their lives were things that didn’t concern me and the world is full of suffering anyway. How can one person be expected to do anything about it?

I turned the corner and he was standing at the meat counter with a pack of bacon in his hand. His back was turned and I thought I might slip by. But he turned his head, just a little, and he saw me. He didn’t seem surprised, or even embarrassed. His head bent just a little, and he said something. Hey, something. I thought for a moment he was going to start talking to me. But he didn’t. He turned away. I thought that was nice of him, to make it so easy for me to go on by. I didn’t let myself hurry. I stopped a little ways past him and looked at some dill pickles in a display set up in the middle of the floor. There were hundreds of bottles. I didn’t want to buy any, but I picked up one and read the price. It was fifty-nine cents. I looked over my shoulder and he was looking at me. Richard. My hand must have been trembling. I wanted him even then. I set the jar back without looking and the whole display crashed down. I jumped back. It was unbelievable the way it looked. Broken glass everywhere, and thousands of tiny green chips. Green juice that started puddling around my cart. It ran across the floor and people stepped out of the aisles to look at me. I was trying to think of something to say. I didn’t look over my shoulder to see if Richard was watching. I was scared of what I might see.