I was standing in line...at the check out. I swear I don't always go to the supermarket to get a word, but I just happened to be there yesterday getting the ingredients for a sancocho. Sancocho is a stew - I make it with lots of roots and meats and seasonings. Mark was standing behind me and so I asked him if he'd like to write a word.

"Okay."

and he wrote "Health".

"Thank you." I said.

"Yes. So you're a writer?"

"Umhmm. Fiction and poetry."

"That's very nice."

"I enjoy it."

I paused to look at the Star headline. Supposedly Brad Pitt is suggesting to Angelina that she go to rehab for her weight loss problem? What? Mark was checking me out from head to toe - I'm sure because I have this mohawk and have just asked him to write on my arm. So, I turned to him and asked:

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from here, but I grew up in West Africa."

"Oh - I grew up in Nairobi."

"I hear Nairobi is very nice."

"I enjoyed it, but you know I was growing up there."

"Yes. I've wanted to go to Nairobi but haven't had the opportunity."

"I've wanted to go to West Africa, but haven't had the opportunity either."

"Yes."

The woman behind the check out was finished ringing up all the ingredients.

"Have a nice night."

"You, too."