My brain had decided saving 37 cents was the most important task in the world.A man came down the aisle.He looked to be in his 60s.He wore a navy polo and khaki shorts and had gray stubble.He slowed when he saw me.Then he stopped much closer than he needed to.
“Oh, my God.”I looked around because I thought he’d dropped something.Then he said, loudly, “Cover yourself. Nobody needs to see that.”Someone near the bakery turned around.“What?” I asked.He pointed toward my chest.
I looked down.I still didn’t understand, so I grabbed both sides of my flannel and pulled them wider.Then I saw it.Two wet circles covered the front of my gray tank top.Dark gray against light gray.Each one was about the size of my palm.
My milk had let down without me noticing.I’d been in the store for only 11 minutes.I stood there holding my own shirt open, staring at my chest.Meanwhile, a stranger stood maybe eight inches from my face.Heat rushed into my cheeks.And then, for some reason I’ll probably never understand, I apologized.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”He made a disgusted sound.“You people just do whatever you want now.”“I’m sorry.”“Walking around like that in public.”“I’m sorry.”
