|Even on your anniversary you fight. An argument over who will scan their credit card at the market register. You say you need the mileage points. You’re low on points and desperate to go on holiday. He has lots of points, how can this matter? He ignores you, as if you haven’t explained and pulls out his own card. None of this lost on the check-out lady. She smirks enjoying the entertainment. You ask for the two cake slices in a separate bag. At the last minute you had grabbed two slices of chocolate cake from the case. He saw you, and wagged a finger. Stood near the paper towels wagging his finger. At first you pretended not to understand. But you knew he was ordering you to put the slices back. You wanted to scream out across the market: This is our anniversary cake GODDAMMIT! You held onto them, each in their plastic container, and moved toward him, silently mouthing: you want one too? Tense-looking, he walked to the bakery case, poked around, then switched his slice to a darker more devious chocolate. Dense-looking; no pores breathing there. Then moving quickly he tossed the other food items onto the belt. A woman checking-out in front of you sensed his aggression; looked startled; grabbing her bag of oranges she left. You began feeling weak in the knees. You watched the check-out lady putting the cake slices into a separate bag. You always did it that way. To avoid damage.
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