He comes into the store often, always late, always tired, and always buying lollipops.

One night, your curiosity gets the better of you. As he sets the usual pile on the counter, you ask, “Why do you always buy lollipops?”

He pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Keeps my mouth busy,” he says with a shrug. “Better than smoking. Cheaper than therapy.”

A faint smirk follows. “Why? You judging my taste?”