I heard metal cans sliding across the wooden shelves.

“I have to run into town,” I said toward the open doorway.

“We’ll finish packing the dry goods,” he said from inside the small room.

“Take your time.”

I grabbed my truck keys off the iron hook, walked out the back door, and pulled it shut behind me.

I parked my truck near the back of the grocery store lot.

The pavement was cracked, and dry weeds grew up through the faded white lines.