The crowd thins out a little as you make your way into the home section. There’s lots of cool stuff here. Hacksaws. Faucets. Lightbulbs. Very nice, very nice.
But also very expensive. You reach into your pocket and curl your fingers around your few dollars, your loose change. Five-fifty. That was it. And as much as you figure she’d like a new rug for the hall, that decimal point is in the wrong place for that to happen. You skim the aisles with waning hope.
And then you come to rows of bright colors. Sky blue and ocean green. Egg yolk yellow and honey gold. Brick red and sunset orange. You stare for a moment, dazzled by the display. Slowly, you realize what it is. Spray paint. And just as slowly, you realize what it costs. 5.25 a bottle. It’s like a sign from Heaven. It’s meant to be.