Rewriting II

As we left the store, you walked ahead of me, carrying our shopping bag.  I lagged behind, holding the pie box in my arms, making a point of memorizing everything about the store and the feeling.  Time was tangible.  I felt old but I wasn’t scared. From the doorway you looked back at me, “You’re going to write about this, aren’t you?” 

[You had already read me.  Did that change everything?]