Luna’s mother peered out the front door window. “Luna… why is there a line of old people?”
Luna turned red. She had always volunteered to go to the grocery store with her mom. She loved old people. Their white hair and wrinkled skin. Luna would get a pain in her heart when she saw them with grandchildren; hers all died before she was born. Today at the grocery store, while her mother wasn’t looking, Luna had pinned a note on the bulletin board that read: Grandparents Wanted.
“They’re here for the job, Mommy.”