A pharmacist
The couple are acting shady in the way that couples only act when they’re buying one of two things. The condoms are a whole shelf away, and the woman is already stacking a second pregnancy test on top of the one that her partner is holding.
‘Get two,’ she says. ‘In case one doesn’t work.’
Her partner nods his head, then furrows his dark brow. ‘Well, if one doesn’t work, do we really want to go off just the other one?’ He crouches, picks up another. ‘We’ll get three.’
The woman, who is much shorter than him, bites her lip. She crouches, too. ‘Might as well make it four,’ she says. ‘Even number.’
They grin at one another, though the woman’s grin fades when the man isn’t looking.
It’s he who pays, and the woman has collected herself by the time he does so.
She looks back up at him, and he’s still smiling like he’s in the middle of a particularly pleasant dream.
She nudges him, and he fumbles all four of the tests, and she cackles as they go tumbling to the floor.