An Entitled Woman with a Full Cart Cut in Front of My Mom’s Wheelchair at the Supermarket – What Came over the Intercom Made Her Freeze

tile might shift under us.

We got flour, apples, pecans, butter. For a few minutes, she was herself again.

“Do we have cinnamon?” I asked.

She snorted. “Eli, I have enough cinnamon to preserve a body.”

I laughed.

Then we reached checkout.

Her hands tightened on the armrests. Her jaw locked. The line was short, but being visible drains her in ways I can’t continue reading …