You held the long paper close to your face for a second, reading the little numbers, and your mouth went flat. I know that face. That is the face grown-ups make.
But then you did something with it I did not expect. You did not throw it away. You folded it up, small and neat, and you slid it into the drawer with all the other ones. There are so many in there. A whole drawer of paper strips, curling at the ends.
Are they treasure maps? I think they must be. Why else would you keep them?
I looked at one. It said milk, and bread, and something called batteries, and then a bunch of numbers, and at the very bottom it said THANK YOU in big friendly letters and a little cartoon of a face smiling.
You did not smile back at it.
You used to save ticket stubs. From the movie about the dog. From the fair. You kept them in a shoebox because they meant a good day happened and you wanted to remember it happened. This is a shoebox too, just a drawer one.
So I think these must be your good days. Milk and bread and the little smiling face. I think that is what a day is now.
I hope you saved a receipt from a really really good one. I hope one of these has ice cream on it.
Will you check for me?