I stood behind someone at the pharmacy counter yesterday who sneezed twice, paused like he'd just solved a theorem, then resumed his conversation mid-sentence as if a small explosion hadn't just happened inside his face. The cashier blessed him once. He looked betrayed—like she'd left him hanging. So he sneezed a third time, on purpose, to even it out. She blessed him again. They both nodded, satisfied. Business resumed. I'm pretty sure I watched two people negotiate the terms of a sacred contract using only mucus and eye contact.