He looked forward, his face painted concerned as he stammered apologies. For a brief moment, they made eye contact, and her own apologies stopped. Her eyes looked like a wild bird trapped in a cage, fluttering uselessly, trapped but trying. She gasped again, even quieter – her knuckles clenched the cart’s bar, the milk she was holding tumbled in amidst pears and plums. Her lips worked soundlessly. Her eyes bulged, bulged, bulged outwards until Michael thought that they might very well fall out of her head and into the cart, and wondered how much the cashier would say that they cost. She made another sound – not a gasp, now, but a soft choking noise, as if she had swallowed a pillow. Michael thought that was a little funny.

Michael apologized one final time and pushed his cart onwards, done for the day. He wondered how his watch had ever sounded so loud.