As I wheeled my cart around the corner to the seltzer aisle, I noticed a woman, perhaps fifteen years older than I am, scanning the endcap. There was something about her hair and makeup that looked vaguely familiar. As I lingered on her face, trying to place her, we made eye contact, so I smiled as I passed.
"I've been feeling a little faint and weak in this heat," I heard a voice behind me say, and I turned to see her closing in on me, "so my mailman told me I needed Gatorade!" she laughed. "And here I am."
"I guess the electrolytes?" I shrugged.
"But my mailman!" she repeated.
"He probably spends a lot of time outdoors," I suggested.
She shook her head in amusement. "My husband is a doctor!" she informed me, and he never mentioned any such thing. "Now, where do you s'pose that Gatorade is?"
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