Behind glass, locked away like treasure, two items sit: cigarettes and baby formula. One meant to fill new lungs with life, the other to blacken them. The clerk takes your money first, then offers your selection. On the surface, it's a simple matter of theft prevention, but there's an underlying weight. In a store where most of life's essentials sit freely on shelves, these two share a locked space as a reminder that we've commoditized the very poles of life, and payment isn't just required — it's inevitable.