Foreword

Chapter 5

Rob stumbled back to fetch the basket of groceries that he had left. However, instead of the basket of groceries he was ready to pay for, he was met with a rather irritated employee who was about to put all his foods back.

"Sir, are these yours?" the other man motioned to the basket.

"Yes, they are. I'd left them unattended for a minute or so and I was planning to come right back; sorry if I caused any trouble."

The worker raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, you didn't cause any trouble at all. No, no!" he took on a dangerously sarcastic tone, then lowered his voice.

"Someone could've tripped over your ding-dang groceries during the 'minute or so' that you decided to part with them. They could've bashed their head on something, or they could've fallen to the floor and gotten hurt, and that would've meant a shitload of paperwork for us workers here and anyone involved. OHHHH, and someone could've stolen your food or mistook them for free samples or something, which is a downside for the both of us. Speaking of which, do you know how little these long hours even pay? And you're lucky I didn't put these back yet," he continued, jabbing a meaty finger at the vesicular bag of red grapes, popping one of the fruits.

"I am very sorry, sir. I'll be on my way now," Rob repeated, clasping his sweaty hands together. The worker grumped and shoved the basket into Rob's arms, trotting off.

This time, he headed directly towards the cash registers and joined the shortest line.

He began to take out his money again, estimating the cost and corresponding this idea with what he brought out. By the time he was finished, it was his turn to load the groceries onto the conveyor belt, faded with years of use.

The cashier waited patiently for Rob to set the first few items onto the conveyor belt, then began speedily swiping each item with a price scanner laser and shoving them into plastic bags just as quickly and with such force that Rob's hair was dancing in the wind from the cashier's motions.

Once he paid and received his change, he picked up half the bags in one hand and the other half in the other hand, and headed out the door. Satisfied with his small accomplishments: getting through work without much trouble, going grocery shopping, and obtaining Talinda's phone number, the man sighed deeply, content.

The Californian sunset, bold and vibrant, silhouetted the palm trees that towered above and lined nearly every single sidewalk or road. The accountant walked back to his parking spot, unlocked the doors with his car keys, loaded the groceries in the trunk, and started the ignition. As the engine purred to life, he quickly texted Dave and summarized what had happened with Talinda, smartly leaving out the fact that he was a complete nervous wreck while speaking to her.

His phone instantly buzzed a reply back. "Congrats, bro! It is too bad she's already married. But hey, there'll be someone for you, and it doesn't have to be a lady. If you're looking for company, I'm here. You have your nerdy friends. And your drumset, of course- your real love. ;) Try calling her anyway. You never know!"

Rob grinned, but a twinge of pain made his heart ache. There was something missing. He was lucky to have such a wonderful job opportunity but all his friends had moved away. He hadn't been keeping in touch with his college friends and had only been emailing two of his junior high/high school friends about three or four times every couple of months, thus they obviously weren't too close. He was probably just lonely, but it was probably the tiredness that showed through the man's eyes and the rumbling stomach that spoke rather than Rob himself.

His tapped out the rhythm of the songs playing on the radio with his thumbs on the wheel as he slowly made his way back home.

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