I put the few things on the counter in the Rite-Aid, some throat lozenges and patent medicines for this and that. The young lady behind the counter passed them by the reader and totalled my bill. It was about thirty-two dollars.
“You’ll have to pay,” my wife said. “I don’t have any money with me.”
As she took my credit card the young lady said with a smile, “My boy friend is always doing that to me.”
“We’re married,” said my wife, “so it’s alright.”
“We’re living together,” the young lady brightly answered, “but I wish he’d let me know he’s not carrying any money with him before he does that.”
“It’s not the same,” I heard my wife say.
“No, not by a long shot,” I was thinking as I turned and we walked out the door. I didn’t know whether to cry or pray.
I chose to pray.