I’m sorry. I should’ve let you go in front of me. All you had was a bag of granola. A small bag of granola. We were still in the hollow nether-realm between the lady in front of me grabbing her bags and receipt and me moving the plastic bar that divided her groceries and mine–it would’ve been the perfect time to exercise common human decency. While the woman behind the till rang me up I looked over sheepishly and saw your work boots. Hopefully I didn’t make you late. Hopefully you didn’t miss your ride and had to walk to Surrey or probably Mission. I wouldn’t even be able to offer you a ride since my bike’s rear tire is low and I’m only pedalling home, two-blocks away. I hope you made it out alright.