Open All Night

"I could have been something if I hadn't gotten sick, " Allie found herself telling the woman in the produce department. " I had leukemia when I was seven. I was bald as a bat, but I was better after a year. My parents always treated me with kid gloves after that."

"You poor dear," the woman said. She didn't really look at Allie. She was searching for the perfect avacado. This particular store did not have the "ripe and ready sticker," like a lot of the stores. She found herself craving guacamole in the middle of the night, and with no one to rush out to fulfill her whims she threw on a pair of sweats and set out to the grocery store herself.

The woman wondered why Allie wasn't helping her find the avacado. The store must see hundreds of customers rummaging through the avacados looking for the perfect guacamole avacado, which was why, presumably so many store put those stickers on them. Sure, she felt bad that Allie had suffered as a child, but she had survived. The woman could see where the lines fanned around Allie's eyes, the thin strips of gray in Allie's sandy blonde pony tail. Certainly, she was too old to be blaming her parents.

Finally, thankfully, she found her fruit. It had a rich dark green color, and her thumb fell into the skin of it just slightly as she pressed down. She found a cellophane bag and put the avacado in her cart. She also picked up a jar of roasted garlic, a roma tomato and a lime. She'd pass by the natural food section for a bag of tortilla chips before leaving the store. It wasn't really enough to justify a cart, but the woman liked to take it. It made her feel more secure.

Allie followed far behind her, so the woman wouldn't notice. She watched as the woman pushed her cart with the one small bag out to the parking lot. She waited until the cart was almost completely interlocked with the one in front of it before she grabbed her bag, climbed into her car and drove away.

The checkout girl walked over to Allie and placed her hand on her shoulder.

"I think someone needs help in the meat department," she said.

Allie nodded, and headed toward the back of the store. There was a young man mulling over the ground beef, trying to decide between the 80% and the 85%.

"I fell off my bike when I was seven," she told the man. "I didn't slow down enough when I hit that hill, and off I tumbled like a tumbleweed. Broke my arm, and got a nasty gash on my noggin. Needed fifteen stitches. My parents always treated me with kid gloves after that. I could've been something if I hadn't gotten hurt."