The grain of sand became a pebble a few days later at the grocery store. We were in the cereal aisle, a monument to our domestic life. Noah was in the cart seat, Lily trailing behind us begging for the pink, marshmallow-filled brand we never bought.
I was comparing prices on oatmeal when I felt Leo go still beside me. I followed his gaze.
A woman stood at the end of the aisle, her back to us, examining a box of granola bars. She had a sleek, platinum blonde bob, cut at a sharp, fashionable angle.
Eva’s hair had been curls, not a bob. This woman was taller, her clothes more corporate. It wasn’t her.
But Leo had frozen. For two, maybe three seconds, he stared at the back of this stranger’s head. His face was unreadable, but his body was tense, alert. It was the same focused attention
