Michael drove to a convenience store and made his way down an aisle he'd ignored since adolescence. Maxi pads… Pregnancy tests… contraceptives. He blinked at the dizzying array of options available. Oh, Lord, now what? Lambskin? Ugh. Ribbed? Doesn't seem necessary. How do I choose?
He stared at the display. Movement in his peripheral vision revealed a man much younger than him who walked up confidently, grabbed a bright red box, and sauntered away.
I guess that will do for an endorsement, he thought, claiming the same type. He moved quickly from the aisle to the register. I need to get home, try to figure out how things work. Apart from that one time in middle school, when a whole bunch of us blew them up like balloons, I've never actually touched one. It appears the professor is undered
