No Littering
The woman ahead of me in the checkout stared intently at the few items I'd placed on the conveyer belt. I registered her gaze with disquiet — and then with a spike of indignation, which quickly gave way to self-ridicule. Why assume that this stranger was judging me, or thinking about me at all? She was just spacing out as her order was tallied.
Then the woman addressed me. "Is that stuff any good? Do you enjoy using it?" [Actual quote.]
She was pointing to a box of kitty litter.
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Oops -- I didn't mean to delete your post, Benedict. I clicked on the trashcan icon, thinking it was something you had put there in relation to your comment about "the step up from the newspaper that used to line my cage." Anyway, my mistake. Sorry!
Censorship!
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