I had just left the Wedge grocery on Nicollet Ave when a man walking by called me over.

“Miss?”

“Yes?”

“Could you buy me an orange juice?”

“Sure.” I mean, how else could I respond to a question like that? Of course I can buy this guy an orange juice. Why had no one ever asked me that question before!? I had never felt more sure of anything. “Come on inside.” Continue reading “OJ and I” →