I stood in the aisle with the analgesics. Scrutinizing the rows and rows of little boxes, looking for some generic naproxen sodium. Sophia sat in the baby carrier on my chest, her head tilted up at the drop-tile ceiling. I perceived a mild commotion nearby. A bearded man with glasses held out his hands and waved them gently, as though he were expecting to be passed a basketball. He murmured something unintelligible. I stared at him. He turned around and walked away.

On the way out the store he passed me as I fed her a bottle. He said something else. Something else I couldn’t understand. Maybe it was the same thing as before.