He had been nursing this scratchy irritation since his morning meeting, but by 9:00 PM, it had evolved into a full-blown cactus-swallowing sensation. He grabbed the bag—the last one on the shelf—and shuffled toward the checkout.

"Consider it a 'get well soon' gift," she said, sliding the receipt toward him. "Just make sure you actually the next bag yourself."

"That'll be four-fifty," the cashier said, not looking up from her phone.