His back was to the cart.
At 2:43:08, the woman came into the frame.
White puffer vest. Platinum hair.
She walked down the aisle slowly. Looking at the juice.
She stopped next to the cart.
She looked at Henry. On his ladder. His back to her.
She looked around. Up the aisle. Down the aisle.
She took out her phone.
She propped it against the bottles of apple juice on the middle shelf. Tilted. Facing the cart.
She touched the screen.
Then she put her hand on the side of the cart.
And she pushed.
It wasn’t a bump. It wasn’t an accident.
She shoved it. Hard. With her whole arm.
The cart lurched sideways. The brake held the back wheels but the front swung. One wheel came off the floor. The cart tipped. The top shelf slid.
Eight bottles of Ocean Spray went over the edge.
Even in black and white, without sound, you could see them shatter. A white spray of glass and liquid exploding across the floor.
