The Family Surveillance Unit

I was in the supermarket, looking down at my feet, choosing fruit to buy, essentially minding my own business.

A man approached me and picked up my face with a leather-gloved hand so he could study it. He was dressed like a computer undertaker and wore his reading glasses as if they were eyebrows. The man said that he remembered my father and that meant I must help him look for the missing component, which was – which must be – somewhere in the supermarket. Lost somewhere in the supermarket Ok. We looked everywhere. We reached into deep freezers, searched the backs of the very highest shelves, checked the insides of olives that had been de-stoned and stuffed, emptied cereal boxes and picked through their contents.

When I got home I told my father, who turned into a ghost then asked if we found the component. I didn’t remember. I said I didn’t remember. He said it was important, very important, of the utmost importance. But I couldn’t remember if we ever actually found it. I just could not remember.


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