I was not alone in the checkout line. There was one other man, roughly my age with a plastic hand basket, for 12 items or less. Upon settling into this line it occured to me that there was one item on my list that I had forgotten. I left my cart and ran to the aisle, returning as quickly as I had left.
Upon my return, the man's face had transfigured itself from blank to an impish smirk. I also noticed that the egg carton had been removed from my cart and was in the hands of the man--broken, cracked with the damaged yolks drooping from the man's unapologetic finger tips.