[...] And in line, in front of me, there’s this couple. A boy and a girl. I close my eyes and I can still see the backs of their heads at the moment I become aware of them. Two normal heads with normal hair, totally unremarkable. Kids, both of them. Well, kids to me, in fact they were probably in their early twenties. She has her arm around his waist and her head on his shoulder and she’s leaning into him like she’s trying to get every part of her body as close to every part of his body as she can. This kind of physical intimacy, that’s how I can tell they’re young. I mean, there’s the clothes and the pimples on his chin that he keeps poking at with his finger, and how smooth her skin is, but the thing I notice first is how she’s leaning into him, and only kids do that in public, little kids with their parents, wrapping their bodies around mommy’s leg, and big kids with their boyfriends and their girlfriends. Like if they’re together, doesn’t matter where, they’re not going to waste that time, that precious time, being even inches apart. It’s a little—I mean it’s a lot, sometimes, to look at, that kind of need, in public. It can be—well, it can be disgusting. Especially if they’re also kissing and usually they are. But there’s something, or, looking at these kids I felt also there was something, sacred isn’t the word, but they were treating this mundane moment, Sunday afternoon in a crowded Home Depot, waiting in line to check out, they were respecting this moment, they were insisting it was too good and special a moment not to honor with this display. There was a kind of, I don’t know, reverence to it. Gross as it also was. A kind of honesty.”