20 items or ... fewer

The sign at the checkout counter read, “20 items or less,” and while he wasn’t going to waste anyone’s time by pointing out that it should read, “20 items or fewer,” he did give the woman ahead of him a look that said, if she was willing to listen (which she wasn’t), “20 items, not 35.” He did no more than that, though, because it was Christmas Eve. He counted his own cartful – 18 items – then thought for a moment about whether he should attend church. He decided against it. He knew the late-night service might make him feel less lonely, but he fancied himself someone who was honest in everything he did and going to church on Christmas Eve to avoid the awaiting loneliness seemed phony. He’d bought a bottle of wine. Not the cheap stuff, but nothing too pricey, either. He would go home, cook a frozen pizza, one of those rising-crust brands, with pepperoni and sausage, open the wine and pass the next six hours until Christmas Eve was gone. Then, he would sleep. Then, all that would be left would be Christmas Day. He knew the drill, only too, too well.