Two people. A woman and a man. They see each other from across the room
and walk towards each other with a quickening pace. Now face to face they
must acknowledge each other. She says, "please you first" and he retorts the same. She is politely insistent and he accepts. She observes him quietly from a
distance as he places his purchase on the grocery store checkout conveyor. As the clerk scans each item at a painfully slow pace he shuffles and looks down at his feet and deals darting glances at her waiting. With a coy smile she averts her gaze to the security screen above them. He turns his back and she sees his face on the screen as he rolls his eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean? The clerk states the amount as he swipes his card. A birthing minute ensues. Declined. He swipes again with annoyed purpose. Declined. Thrice, now with an air of indignation. Declined. "For the love of Christ!" echos silently in her mind as she longingly stares at the exit. He persists and claims the machine is broken. The clerk with a crestfallen countenance summons the manager on the intercom. She glances at the the minute hand of her watch melting slowly like the face of Dali's clock. The bag boy sheepishly whispers to the clerk that he thinks perhaps the manager is on his lunch break currently. "Damn your politeness!" she curses secretly to herself. "What the hell was I thinking? I'm in a hurry to get back and feed my cats. They must be clawing the furniture to shreds by now and crapping all over the house in protest, as hungry cats will do.Why couldn't this jerk be a gentleman and let me go first? What kind of man doesn't have a second card or cash on hand? Why must I shop at a one-register grocery store? Where the hell is the Manager!" She glances behind her at the people queued up wreaking of impatience like a bad cologne. Their Medusa glares render her frozen silent. They won't go back and neither will she. Ensnared, she reluctantly endures. Let it come and let it be.
Two people. A woman and a man. They see each other from across the room and walk towards each other with a quickening pace. Now face to face they must acknowledge each other. She says, "please you first" and he retorts the same. She is politely insistent and he accepts. She observes him quietly from a distance as he places his purchase on the grocery store checkout conveyor. As the clerk scans each item at a painfully slow pace he shuffles and looks down at his feet and deals darting glances at her waiting. With a coy smile she averts her gaze to the security screen above them. He turns his back and she sees his face on the screen as he rolls his eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean? The clerk states the amount as he swipes his card. A birthing minute ensues. Declined. He swipes again with annoyed purpose. Declined. Thrice, now with an air of indignation. Declined. "For the love of Christ!" echos silently in her mind as she longingly stares at the exit. He persists and claims the machine is broken. The clerk with a crestfallen countenance summons the manager on the intercom. She glances at the the minute hand of her watch melting slowly like the face of Dali's clock. The bag boy sheepishly whispers to the clerk that he thinks perhaps the manager is on his lunch break currently. "Damn your politeness!" she curses secretly to herself. "What the hell was I thinking? I'm in a hurry to get back and feed my cats. They must be clawing the furniture to shreds by now and crapping all over the house in protest, as hungry cats will do.Why couldn't this jerk be a gentleman and let me go first? What kind of man doesn't have a second card or cash on hand? Why must I shop at a one-register grocery store? Where the hell is the Manager!" She glances behind her at the people queued up wreaking of impatience like a bad cologne. Their Medusa glares render her frozen silent. They won't go back and neither will she. Ensnared, she reluctantly endures. Let it come and let it be.