I pulled into my grocery store lot and parked my car in between the painted yellow lines, shifting the steering wheel so that my tires pointed straight. I grabbed my purse and quickened my pace toward the sliding doors. As I entered, I observed an older man carrying a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The bright-colored daffodils formed a rainbow of pink, blue and green against the gray of his sweater. I smiled at him as we crossed paths and noticed how his thin-wired glasses rested on his nose. He walked fast, maybe eager to give these flowers to his date, wife, or perhaps even his mistress. I did not know his story, but the moment made enough of an impression for this image to stick. An ordinary excursion to the grocery store became one in which I attempted to fill in the blanks about someone else's life.
I did not think about this previous encounter until it happened again almost four weeks later at the same grocery store. This time I didn't bother to park my car straight. The air possessed a cold chill and my feet shivered because I slipped on a pair of flip-flops near my garage door. This time ano...
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