The electric door swings open. There are never any baskets. I go to the end of a register to get one.
I squeeze the avocados. Lately, they’ve been good. When they are good, I get four.
I turn over boxes of lettuce to find one that’s not yellow and liquidy on the bottom. I look at the vegetables. Usually get some. Shiitake mushrooms, pre-sliced. Parsley. Cilantro. Granny Smith apples, but only the hardest ones.
I pass by the honey roasted cashews, eye them, move on.
Little jar of artichokes. Little jar of olives. Big bottle of olive oil. Sliced pickled beets have been on sale for a while, at $1.89 a jar. It’s been too hot to cook, so I stock up on cans. Sweet corn. White beans. Lentils and peas, sometimes. Goya always.
Corn tortillas, hummus, plantain chips. Chips made out of chickpeas. Veggie straws. Tahini. They do not sell miso, here.
The radio plays classic rock and oldies. I stand in line, check my phone, swipe my card, get cash back, leave with my bags, leave through the exit door, go to the deli, reach into the cooler, save money, live better, shop some more.
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