Look at the Dates
He ran his finger down the column of dates and then he turned over one of his own warehouse receipts and circled three grocery charges on the back, a hundred and forty-two, a hundred and eighteen, ninety-six, and he set it beside the printout.
Those three together, he said, are less than what left our account every Friday.
I know what groceries cost, I said.
I know, he said.
He was not arguing with me.
He was showing me a thing I had arranged my whole week around not seeing.
We counted them.
A hundred and fifty-six payments.
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