Ian was staring at the sprig of rapini in his fist, wondering why he wasn’t just buying broccoli, when he first heard the voice. It wasn’t that he had a specific hatred for rapini, he was telling himself in silence; it just seemed a little overdone. Four dollars for the “idea” of something cool when he could get an entire head of almost the same thing for a quarter of the cost, and for that reason alone the vegetable seemed a touch elitist…
“Hey,” the voice repeated, closer to Ian’s ear and more insistent.
He looked up with a scowl, ready to growl something about “waiting their damn turn” and c****d his head at the young woman with the toddler on her hip.
“Remember me?”
There was no welcoming smile. There was no I’m-so-happy-to-see-you familiarity; just the darkly circled, exhausted ey
