There’s a tiny hardware store on Lexington Avenue that used to be across the street from me I’ve gone to forever. They sadly lost their space when the rent went off the rails.
I was there perusing dish towels, something to buy when I’m sad since they don’t cost a lot, weeping in the trivet aisle.
There was a couple, clearly married since she had not one spot of make-up on she could have seriously used, while he, the older of the two looked amazing as is (why do wrinkles look so great on a man).
They were arguing over a toaster.
Wife: “You’re gonna spend how much when you can get one so much less at Bed Bath & Beyond, or Macys even.”
Wife: “You’re missing the point honey, these little places rip you off blind.”
Husband: “These little places did you say? If I’m not mistaken you were just saying how much you miss the independent bookstore around our corner because you hate how no one knows anything at Barnes & Noble.”
Wife shakes her head in irritation.
Husband: “You wanted to kill that kid who thought the Great Gatsby was a magician and suggested you look in Games and Puzzles.”
Wife: “How can you compare F. Scott Fitzgerald to a toaster?”
Husband: “If we don’t support the little mom and pop stores they’ll all close…a few dollars helps keep them open so kids won’t grow up thinking they’re gonna read about Harry Houdini.”
They bought the toaster.