Just For One Day

13

      My eyes flicked back and forth between my options. I could only choose one, and time was not on my side. I had to act fast.

     A drop of sweat ran down the side of my face. How could I possibly choose one, and not the other? What did I do to deserve having to make this decision? What circle of hell did this situation crawl out of?

     No time, no time. I had to do something.

     Finally, I made my choice. It was tough, but it was the only logical one. My hand was forced.

     I reached out, grabbed the bag, and put the whole wheat bread into my already overflowing supermarket basket. Sourdough was better for sandwiches, but I couldn't make toast with it.

     I looked at my cellphone for the time. Ten minutes until my TV show came on. It was really hot in here as well, which only made me want to leave faster.

     The break had been nice so far. It had only been a couple of days, but I had caught up on some reading I had been meaning to get to and TV programs that had been recorded on my cable box for a while. I was making good time with my article writing as well; having to spend time healing from mild to moderate cuts, bruises, and laser burns tends to distract from the creative process.

     Speaking of which, I had also fully healed from my explosion related injuries, including the burn on my face from the heat. Now it no longer hurt to smile. Or blink, for that matter. My runny nose from a few days ago had turned into a full blown cold, complete with coughing, sneezing, and daytime television, but beggars can't be choosers. All said and done, it could have been worse. Maybe I wouldn't even need cough syrup today.

     I looked into my basket and checked its contents against my grocery list. Eggs, milk, bread, hot dogs, butter, flour, pineapple juice, potatoes, celery, box of spaghetti, tomato sauce, ground beef, ground coffee. That should be good for a while.

     I moved toward the front of the store and encountered a very long line of people, while a voice on the intercom droned about extra employees going to the cash registers. I guessed that's what I got for shopping on a Saturday.

     The people in line shuffled around to other registers that were now open, and I got in back of one the marginally-shorter-but-still-infinitely-long lines. I passed the time by staring around the store, avoiding making eye contact with strangers, and examining the sensationalist magazines by the register when the line became short enough. The magazines had headlines informing me that the Prince of England was getting a divorce, that a popular reality star had unknowingly married her long lost brother but it was fine because they were both consenting adults, and that the President had recently revealed the shocking truth about having an affair with an extraterrestrial. Pretty standard stuff for the tabloids, but it made me question the intelligence of my fellow man.

     Finally, it was my turn to check out. I put my basket on the counter, reached for my wallet, and looked up.

     And nearly swallowed my tongue.

     Her hair was dirty blonde and she wore a nondescript white button down with khakis and heavy mascara, but I'd recognize that turned-up nose and those eyes anywhere. One blue, one green.

     "How are you today did you find everything you were looking for," she said, as if reciting lines out of a bad play.

     "I-uh-yyyes," I stammered. This was not happening.

     She started to run my items over the sensor as I wrestled with a mild panic. Would she recognize me, and what would happen if she did? Were we about to throw down in the middle of a supermarket? That hasn't typically gone well for me, in case you hadn't noticed.