The Stranger Who Knew My Name

I was standing in line at the grocery store last Tuesday, the kind of ordinary errand that blends into the background of a thousand others. Cart half-full with the usual suspects: milk, bananas, that overpriced oat milk I keep telling myself I'll switch from someday. My mind was elsewhere—replaying a conversation from work, worrying about a friend I hadn't checked in on, wondering why the ceiling fan in my bedroom has started making that weird clicking noise again. The cashier scanned my...