Pulling his single bag of groceries toward him like one might accept a newborn from a relative, the man took a single bite of a Granny Smith apple, said “this one got a lot of rain,” with a bit of green apple peel dangling from his mouth.
He placed the bitten apple back in the bag-his own, canvas held together with gray duct tape said “Good Evening” and walked off with a strange, rhythmic hitch in his gait, as though at any moment he’d begin to dance.
Megasavings had been open for ten minutes, it was 9:10 am, and the few shoppers in the store were still shopping.
Seline looked at Vince, prepping his stock of shopping bags on their metal hooks.
“That guy has a screw loose,” she said, pointing at the man sashaying out of the store.
Vince looked.
“I see him a lot.”
“He’s got a screw loose,” Seline repeated.
Vince looked around to see if any management was hovering.
Austin was behind the customer service desk, fifty feet away.
“Is there anything in this world,” Vince said, “that suggests our screws are supposed to stay in place?”
Seline scrunched her nose, confused.
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