It was 10:00 in the morning. My husband was away; we didn’t need any groceries, but I felt compelled to go to the store. I bought bananas, milk, and cereal although I’d already eaten breakfast after my morning walk.
The store had a tabletop display right in the middle of the checkout area. Hostess Cupcakes and Twinkies were artfully disheveled, inviting me to take a box home. Schooled by Weight Watchers, every woman’s perennial calorie conscience, I perused the label for calorie counts and thoughtfully chose the Twinkies, chose paper over plastic for my goods to be placed in, paid the bill, and walked out.
As soon as I got in my car, I opened the box to eat just one Twinkie. Just one, the box was calling out to me. By the time I arrived home, the entire box was gone.
I’d also purchased my husband a wristwatch he didn’t need, from another grocery display. I wanted to remember the time, I guess.
It was September 11, 2001.