“There’s too many people,” I reason. “And the aisles are too narrow. And last time that ruffian slammed his cart into your ankle.” My mind floods with the memory of her crying out in pain. She dropped her soda on the floor and we had to find a staff member to go get a mop. She laughs, waving me off. “Yeah, that hurt like a bitch. But that was one time. I very much doubt that kid will be there again. And if he is, I’ll let you punch him in the head, okay?”
