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Grocery Analysis

Before me on the conveyor belt, your whole life is on display. After the items are scanned, you carefully place your pre-chilled bottle of wine and single tin of gourmet cat food into a cloth bag. Your lightly wrinkled yet well-tailored blazer and disheveled chignon show no hope of being revived, but that would be unnecessary for your watery blue, tired eyes already look inward towards their destination: a bath with a book and a glass of dry Chardonnay, and then to bed, with a soft Persian purring near your feet.

Thank God it wasn’t a white Zinfandel, or I would have been overcome with tears right there in the express lane by the props of your evening solitude.

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