Albert Ohlinger strode down the second aisle of the small convenience store, irritated by the need to buy toiletries there instead of at the grocery store.  His car was in the shop and he couldn’t afford a rental—or, at least, he couldn’t justify the expense to himself—so he’d had to ride the bus to and from work that day, and there was no supermarket or drugstore between the bus stop and the house where he rented the “in-law suite” in the back.

He had squeezed the last of his shampoo onto his thinning hair that morning, thinking he had another bottle under the sink.  Then, on quickly checking after his shower, he’d realized that he had misremembered.  At the time, he’d shrugged and hadn’t been too bothered; shampoo was readily available, after all, and he often stopped at the grocery store on his way home from work.  Then, in the afternoon, waiting for the bus was enough of a novelty that the lack of shampoo had slipped his mind. Continue reading →