I took the baby with me to Aisle 13, where a woman stood before a shelf, deciphering.
“Hi,” the baby said—he was one of those kids, and when he went ignored, it devastated me.
The woman turned and widened her eyes.
“I didn’t realize there’s a little man in there,” she said. “Hello.”
He became shy: the initial interaction simple, then he didn’t yet know how to proceed.
“Look at you,” she said to him. “So free. You don’t have to care about anything.”
“Especially with the prices these days,” I said, drawing her attention up.
“You’re telling me,” she said. “When I shop I look for the red tags.”
“The sales control your decision making. You have to afford to be able to choose.”
“I was trying to find a coffee,” she said, gesturing towards the shelf. “I couldn’t decide.”
“I’ve had that coffee before,” I said, pointing to one that was on sale. “But I bought it at the wholesale store and grind the beans myself.”
“Is it any good,” she asked, picking up the package of medium roast.
The truth is that it wasn’t, that, in fact, one day I put one shot too much into the filter and the coffee turned out to taste quite soapy, which research informed me meant it was under-extracted.
“It’s better than the coffee from fast food chains.”
“True,” she said, putting it back. “But I like a dark roast.”
Next to the medium was a dark, which was organic too, and there were only two packages left, whereas the other two had twice as much stock.
“See,” she said to me, “there’s less of this one, so it has to be good.”
“I like your way of thinking.”
“Wait,” she said, halting the sweetness. “Do you work for the company?”
It was my turn to widen my eyes—to be astounded by the flight of her imagination.
“No,” I said, smiling. “But that would be a good tactic: walking around with a baby.”
She returned her gaze to the baby.
“Is he your only one,” she asked.
“He’s not mine,” I said, clearing my throat of phlegm. “I’m just his uncle.”
“A good uncle,” she said, giggling with the dark roast. “Thanks for the recommendation.”
After she left I found the ground thyme and ginger—one brand sold it for 2 for $6 and the other 2 for $12—and the baby latched onto it all the way home, he who had the genius of turning everyday objects his playthings, such as fruits, combs, cutlery, and hank of red-flecked yellow rope.