"Come on, Adrian. We're going to be late." He turned around to find Sharona, arms crossed impatiently.

"I thought we were getting something to eat." He had been standing in front of a shopping mall vending machine for five minutes.

"That was five minutes ago. Look, I need to pick up Benjy. So just buy some chips and let's go."

"Sharona, the people who put the chips in the machine… are their hands clean? And the rest of the machine… when was the last time it was disinfected?"

"I don't really care right now, Adrian. Probably never. Now, do you want something or not."

"I'm not sure. No. But I'm hungry. Yes. No. Yes. No. Ye-"

"Okay, how about this? I'll hold the packet for you and you just touch the chips. Is that alright."

"Yes, that's good. I can do that." Sharona took a dollar out of her purse and put the money in the machine—Monk wouldn't touch it (who knew how many germs were on it?). Monk watched as the packet fell to the bottom of the vending machine. She picked up the packet and opened it, holding it out to Monk.

"Here. Just eat the chips. I doubt anyone's touched those in a while. Let's go." Monk hesitated, staring at the bag nervously.

"Now what's wrong? There's nothing wrong with the chips."

"Sharona, the chips aren't like the picture. The edges aren't even. And some are folded over. They're not even all the same size. I can't eat this. Maybe you can put another dollar in and see –"

"Adrian, they're never going to all be the same. Some might've broken in the fall down. And no one cares about that sort of stuff but you."

"But Sharona—"

"But nothing. The chips will never be the same. Now, come on. I need to pick up Benjy. You can get something to eat at home."