Santa Does Exist

Two weeks ago, I was pushing my cart towards the exit doors at Kroger. With one arm, I fumbled through my purse for my keys. With the other, I slowly steered the cart.  Just as I had my keys in hand and was ready to pick back up my speed, I heard a voice.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man near the door said. Begrudgingly, I looked over. I imagine I was wearing a wonderful shade of Resting B-face. I knew my nap time window was closing and I needed to keep moving to stay on schedule.

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