It’s Friday night in New York. Summer in the city. What to do? Shit, we need toilet paper! Starting off the night all classy like I head to my favorite closest bodega. Not the expensive one with the organic foods that are way overpriced, but the one with the cockroaches and dudes cutting watermelon out front. In I go. A touch of root beer, some fizzy water, some Reese’s pieces. Chip selection time. As I round the aisle to the chips I see a woman staring at the floor. She’s probably mid thirties, sweatshirt, ratty shorts, blond big curly hair. I follow her eyes to the floor, and there it is. A single can of cat food. She is staring at the can as if deciding whether it would be worth it to bend her knees and just pick it up. A few things rest in her arms, a small plastic bag, 2 or 3 cans of cat food. Nothing seems to be preventing her from simply picking it up. She spots me staring and says “Excuse me, would you mind picking that up for me?” I hesitate for a moment but a few scenarios of why she can’t bend her knees go through my mind so I oblige. As I am handing her the can she says to me, as calm, cool, and collected as she can “Thanks, I’m reaaaaaaaaaally drunk right now.”

Ahh, stay classy, cockroach bodega.