It had a dark green facade with white lettering. There were bikes parked outside, leaning against one another, blocking the sidewalk. Women in designer jeans and sunglasses pushed shopping carts with toddlers hanging on, as though children could be fashion accessories. Just outside the main door, traffic waited for the crosswalk to clear before passing through, impatient to get out of the bottleneck formed by this store and its clientele. This was where all the well-to-do people in the area bought their food, if they bought their own food at all. Inside, you could also find people wearing shirts that said 'personal shopper' roaming through the aisles, filling carts, checking items off lists. They represented another class of people entirely – those too self-important to buy their own milk, people who had lost touch with what it meant to take care of themselves. At aisle nine, the checkout closest to the open side entrance of the store, there were two men.
