A Love Story in the Potato Chip Aisle

Had Kimberly reached for plain potato chips she might never had married.

In reaching for barbeque chips, she inadvertently knocked the vapor cigarette from Roger’s hand as he stood nearby.

“What is that?” she asked, watching Roger retrieve the vapor cigarette.    That was the first vapor cigarette she had ever seen.

“That is the beginning,” Roger told her.

“Beginning of what?”

“Of us.”

That struck Kimberly as a curious thing to say.  Roger was a total stranger.  She was four-hundred miles from home and only passing through.  Just the same, Roger’s voice sounded warm, somehow.

And Roger, as she learned later, was seldom wrong about matters of the heart.

-- Mitchell Hegman