In the store, he quickly grabbed a cart and went up and down the aisles, hoping that nothing had changed, that he hadn’t missed her, that she hadn’t been called away or detained or help up or slowed down. His heart began racing and he thought he might vomit before he saw her, comparing milk brands in the dairy aisle. This was perfect. He could cry. This was just so perfect.

He pushed the cart down the aisle, keeping it a steady speed, pretending to look at the yogurts, perhaps selecting the ideal flavor. He braced for the eventual impact and when it came, the crash of the carts colliding almost drowned out her slight gasp – but not quite.