Fahim went to the grocery store and picked up a few things. Among them was floss.
What? They had it now?
No, they always had it, he said. Or so I imagine in my little gold fish brain. It’s just that it was behind the counter. You have to ask the pharmacist for it.
What? Why? It’s a dangerous item or something?
No, dear, he says, as I can hear it ringing in my ears still, it’s probably because it’s so small that someone could walk off with it.
Oh.
Of course.
Here, you DO have to worry that much about stuff like that.
