“That’s really . . . Thank you.” She wonders for a moment why he didn’t simply ask her what shampoo and conditioner she usually uses. Maybe he didn’t know he was going to do this until he was actually doing it? Like getting carried along a wave of kindness he had no choice but to ride if he didn’t want to drown beneath it. She pictures him standing in front of the bins of tiny toiletries at the store, unsure how he got there but knowing he can’t leave until he’s gathered a truly ridiculous number of them to give her. The mental image forces her to stifle a smile.
