She is pushing the carriage through the vegetable aisle, pumps on both breasts, bottles gently swaying, tugging on her already swollen nipples, as she reaches around them to pick out the heads of lettuce and the tomatoes. With the whirring of the diary case cooler and the general hubbub, the chunka-chunka-chunka sound can’t really be heard except by her.
She flexes her soles on the floor. Then, letting go of the carriage, she carefully steps here, then there, spreading her toes. She goes to the register to talk to the girl and now the manager, Tom Jerrold, comes out. Ethel reports that the floor feels warm under her feet. Tom goes downstairs and finds that the vent from the boiler is blocked. It’s a good thing they caught it in time. He offers a fifty-dollar line of credit which she politely refuses.
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