Senior Discount Ali Liebegott I want to grow old with you. Old, old. So old we pad through the supermarket using the shopping cart as a cane that steadies us. I’ll wait at register two in my green sweater with threadbare elbows, smiling because you’ve forgotten the bag of day-old pastries. The cashier will tell me a joke about barbers as I wait. He repeats the first line three times but the only word I understand is barber. Over the years we’ve caught inklings of our shrinking frames and hunched spines. You’re a little confused looking for me at the wrong register with a bag of almost-stale croissants clenched in your hand. The first time I held your hand it felt enormous in my own.Sasquatch, I teased you, a million years ago. Over here, I yell, but not in a mad way. We’re laughing. You have a bright yellow pin on your coat that says, Shalom! Senior Discount, you say. But the cashier already knows us. We’re everyone’s favorite customers. -- p2: defenestrate --

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