The woman behind us laughed.
“Unbelievable. We’re all waiting for this?”
That was when the cashier finally looked up.
Her name tag read Helen.
She appeared to be around fifty years old.
At first, she had the ordinary expression of someone working through a busy Saturday shift.
Then her eyes settled on my mother’s face.
Helen stopped.
She stared at Margaret as though she had suddenly recognized someone she had spent years trying to remember.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
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