The line to pay at Greenies Veggie & Smoothie Bar was more than a dozen deep. The single employee taking care of the customers was frazzled and agitated, and clearly in over her head. The fact that she was slower than a snail probably had something to do with the long line.
Wilson came up alongside me. He was holding a small, clear cup with a mass of some sort of greenish, purplish goop. There was a small wooden spoon sticking straight up in the goop.
From the vault. Originally appeared January 20, 2018
“What about Nana, can she go too?”
The first sign of trouble was when I clicked on the little “buy” button to purchase a pair of pants. One of those shadowy boxes popped up, the kind that bothers you to sign up for something, or subscribe to a website. Only this one wasn’t asking me to sign up for anything. This one had a message.
It was a little before ten in the morning when Wilson passed my office. He was pulling a small suitcase on wheels. We exchanged good mornings, and I didn’t think anything of it until he ducked into the office ten minutes later.