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, and I momentarily lingered on her face, trying to place her. We made eye contact then, 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."
"Maybe the electrolytes?" I offered.
"But my mailman!" she repeated.
"He probably spends a lot of time outdoors," I suggested.
She shrugged 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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