There was a man sweeping the aisles at the Rite Aid tonight. I saw him enter my aisle, see me and promptly turn around and go on to the next aisle. I couldn't blame him.
I brought my purchases to the counter and plopped them down.
"How are you this evening," the young, be-acned checkout kid asked me.
"Judge for yourself," I replied, nodding to my products.
He laughed nervously and rung me up.
"You have a good night," I said, as I walked out with my tube of Sensodyne and my box of Monostat 1.