When you wait in line in a grocery store, and when the two women working there are short, although not impolite, with an old, extinguished man, whose beautiful face still shows traces of intelligence, and when one of the women has to count the coins in his outstretched palm in order to figure out what brand of milk he was sent out to buy, and finally, when nobody wishes him goodbye as he drags toward the door, then you had better pretend that you are inspecting the apples or carrots on your left so as not to be compelled to say pleasantly “goodbye,” as though you could rectify all this in that way, because he will most likely turn toward you, searching for you with his shortsighted eyes, and say “Oh, hello!” as though he recognized an old acquaintance, just in case, when you would feel even worse, and when the ladies behind you in the line would most likely look at you disapprovingly, as though it was you who was impolite toward the poor old creep…