The coupon had expired eleven days ago.

Diane knew this now. The cashier knew it first. They continued discussing it.

“It’s only forty cents,” the cashier said.
“That is not really the point,” Diane replied. It was not remotely the point.

This was Diane’s first trip to the grocery store by herself after months of treatment. She had expected something to feel different.

The grocery store had reorganized nothing.
The produce section still sprayed water without warning.

Her cart pulled sharply to the left.
A man stood in front of the yogurt reading every ingredient on earth.
Her usual cereal was on sale.

Nobody looked at Diane. Nobody knew this was the first time back.

By the register, she felt almost offended by the store’s complete lack of ceremony.

Then came the coupon.

Diane looked at the cashier. The cashier looked at Diane.
Diane started laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It has been a strange year.” The cashier considered this.
“So you don’t want the manager?”
“No,” Diane said. “I think we can let the forty cents go.”

She walked to her car with two bags of groceries and a cart that still pulled to the left.

Nothing had welcomed her back.

Nothing had asked her to be brave.

For the first time in months, Diane had simply been another woman buying cereal.

It was unexpectedly wonderful.

It was Diane’s first dinner with friends since finishing treatment, and everyone had promised to act normally.

Nobody complained until the entrées arrived.

Rachel’s ninety-minute commute had been “a little slow.”

Susan began a story about her neighbor, removed the interesting part halfway through and concluded that he was “probably doing his best.”

Everyone asked Diane whether she was comfortable.

Twice.

Normal, so far, had not made it to the table.

Diane touched the hoop at her ear.

She had chosen the pair for the most ordinary reason available: they looked good with her blouse.

No milestone. No metaphor. No uplifting backstory.

Diane looked around the table and realized she envied her own earrings.

They were allowed to be lovely without being brave.

“Could someone pass the hot sauce?” she asked. “This chicken tastes like a wellness retreat.”

Rachel laughed.

Diane told them about arguing with a cashier over an expired forty-cent coupon.

“You argued over forty cents?”

“It was the principle.”

“That poor cashier.”

The room loosened.

Rachel’s commute became appalling. Susan restored the missing ending to the neighbor story.

By dessert, nobody was being careful.