Richard caught the cold that I’m just about over, and so it was that I went off to the nearby Costco to buy him some juice: orange, strawberry, mango smoothies, get-better stuff.
It was 5:30.
The place was almost woman-free. I have never seen such a stream of men coming in and out of there, and alone. They didn’t have to go but a few steps inside the door, either: there was a huge long wooden pallet set-up going between the front door and the registers, grab’n’go. Not just roses; this year for $50 you could get roses plus greenery plus probably baby’s breath (I tried not to look too close) and everything your sweetie who doesn’t know you’re stopping by there on your way home from work so you can surprise her in the morning could ever hope for.
I totally felt like an interloper who’d accidentally snuck in on their secret.