You do your shopping in the small local store on your street. It's a bit rustic, an old convenience store, but it works well. Since you're dependent on a portable oxygen tank, wearing a nasal cannula at all times, it's not practical. First, the tank, although practical, is heavy. You have to take a cart and stay within reach of the hose. Plus, people look at you strangely. You don't like that too much.

You wait at the checkout in front of Carina. The man in front is with his son. The rascal isn't that old, but he's having fun trying to play with the buttons on the tank, or unplugging the wire. You've already told him several times to stop but he doesn't listen and his father doesn't care. You're struggling enough getting the groceries out of the cart without tangling yourself. The kid laughs.

"You're weird."