Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table

She had specifically asked for the brand of cinnamon coffee creamer she liked.

I pushed the cart past the bakery section.

The smell of yeast hung in the air.

I picked up a loaf of sliced bread and set it gently in the cart.

I turned down the long dairy aisle.

The open refrigerators hummed loudly.

I pulled open a heavy glass door and took out four sticks of butter.

I walked farther down the aisle to the specialty creamers.