Grey-bearded and smiling, he was also awkward and gangly, as though his limbs had been transplanted from a taller donor. He was buying two cans of something, soup perhaps, and he asked the cashier for a paper bag.
She passed it to him. He unfolded it carefully, turned it upside down, and lowered it over his head.
'Oh no, not again,' he cried, with hands as big as dinner plates waving around in mock alarm.
We all looked elsewhere, until he took the bag off his head, packed his two items, and left. Still smiling.
He was a mystery. Our non-reaction felt like a missed opportunity, a minor tragedy.
