I was breezing down the aisle in the grocery store one day and saw a gentleman staring at the shelves with a confused look on his face. His stooped posture forced him to bend in a strange sideways manner in order to look at the top shelf. He ran a hand through his flyaway white hair and scratched his wrinkled cheek, knocking his coke bottle glasses askew. I stopped and asked, “Can I help you find something?”
“Oh that would be great.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m looking for the Special K.”
I smiled confidently and spun toward the shelves. They yawned in both directions; so long they actually appeared to grow smaller toward each end of the aisle. My smile faded. There were four rows, stocked to capacity with several hundred choices. Were they in any sort of order? I’d never considered that before. I blinked up at the top row that even I’d have to extend myself to reach and I was at least half a foot taller than the stooped old man. I’d never seen the cereal aisle like that before.