y wife dragged me out of our house the other day to do some grocery shopping. I had been off from school all week and since I’ve not been out of my house for five days she thought it best to air me out.
When we entered the store she knew exactly what to do and where to go. I, on the other hand, wandered helplessly through the store hoping to find some new product to astound me or some free food they were giving out for people like me. Walking around an assortment of red and green canned goods advertising every sort of vegetable known to mankind I glanced over to a woman staring into her partially-filled wagon.
It didn’t seem like she was looking at anything special. Her eyes were fixed on something that must have been in her mind and not in the cart. I then looked at her eyes. There were large black rings demonstrating how the stress of life pushed her face toward the center of her forehead thus forcing extra skin to accumulate under the part of her face that was the windshield of her soul.