Working the express lane, wearing my FoodWorld T-shirt and name badge, I tried not to think about Kayla. Trying, of course, is not the same as succeeding.
A little old lady approached with a cart positively stuffed with way more than fifteen items, distracting me from my grim thoughts. I went around the counter and helped her unload her purchases onto my conveyor belt.
“I think I might have more than fifteen items,” she said with a girlish, oh dear me smile.
“You’re being a very naughty girl, aren’t you, darling?” I asked. “I may have to call security and have you arrested.”
She laughed.
“Did you bring your FoodWorld card?” I asked.
“I never leave home without it,” she said proudly.
“Well, let’s get you sorted out,” I said, taking her card and returning to my side of the register.
