The road is a messy half-eaten casserole. The weekend sun, a limp slice of lemon. It sneaks out without a whimper. and is not missed. I sit in the car, waiting for you to return with vegetables, their attendance necessary for updating the week’s meal roster. Three young men emerge with their acquisitions. Bottles of wine, local and exotic. Another, a store helper, battles the stabbing arctic chill to push a fresh batch of carts, left behind by shoppers. The store’s sliding doors open, a mother and son come out bearing yellow bags. Their tired feet scurry through the snow….