At two that afternoon, Margaret followed me into a bright electronics store off the highway.

Every wall was covered with thousands of brightly lit plastic packages.

Fluorescent lights buzzed steadily up by the metal ceiling.

Shoppers pushed wire carts along the wide aisles.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Margaret asked.

“I thought you wanted a new camera for the engagement party.”

“I need a way to save a conversation,” I said.

“A record nobody can argue with or brush off later as a simple misunderstanding.”