CHECKOUT
I know I stand in line waiting like all of the others for the flame haired checkout girl to swoop her white hand back and forth . . . but today I don't feel like a shopper, today it is different.
I observe as the groceries are freed from the supermarket trolleys and set down, sliding, a jumbled heap to be packed in rustling plastic that never degrades. I am mesmerised by the movement, the beep, beep of recognition as the scanner meets bar code.
Her nails are painted a vivid blue, she wears a ring of heavy silver and turquoise. Her long lashes make sweeping shadows as her downward turned eyes follow the stream of cans and packets, her lips purse with concentration as she rescues a lost coin and returns it to a waiting hand.
Clattering and muttering, snippets of conversation float around me but do not gain entry into my world today. Today is different...
Still and silent, I watch as she pulls at her tumble of red hair and in one deft movement pins back an unruly curl... and I see her soft grey eyes flicker with recognition then fill with smiles as she finally notices me standing there in line.
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2 comments:
A lovely piece of prose writing, with a surprise ending. Thank you.
It is good piece of writing.
curling and uncurling
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