Slumped Shoulders

He was a tall man, heart full of plum pits. Under his jacket was a worn collared shirt, and under that a yellowed tank top. His shoes were new but his shoulders were slumped.
At the supermarket, he read each label entirely before setting something in his basket. The checkout lady knew him. “Would you like a bag for your labels sir?” The joke passed him. Later in the car he would think about it.
His path unfolded through stop signs and crosswalks. He thought of dive-bombers as he drove. Each hour his watch beeped from inside the glove box.