Friday, May 16, 2008
"I'm not going to fuck you," she said, glaring at him through raccoon-black eyeliner.
He choked. "W-what?"
"I am not going to fuck you."
He tripped a step backward. "That's, um...."
She stayed frozen.
"...good to know."
He yanked his gaze over to the automatic doors.
What the hell? Did he look at her wrong?
He peeked. The raccoon eyes narrowed.
"I really wasn't going there," he said. "But thanks."
She picked up the bread, and the conveyor belt dragged everything forward.
"What do you call these?" she said, thrusting out a produce bag.
"What are they for?"
"You, um, steam them," he said. "You eat the leaves by scraping them with your teeth. The heart is excellent."
She wrinkled her nose.
Behind him, the gentle sound of metal stacking on metal clicked. He turned to see a mouse scurry around a dude building a display of canned mushrooms.
It shot down the next aisle and triggered the automatic doors. The darting shape curved off into the sleepy street noises.
"This is a pretty weird grocery store," he said. "The lady at the deli told me about all her menopause periods. She pointed to the trashcan and said she runs through like a dozen maxi-pads a day."
No reaction from the cashier.
"I'm not sure I want to eat the chipped ham now."
"I've never had a period," she said.
He nodded a few times.
She dropped a bag of apples on top of his Wonder Bread.
He shrugged and handed her the twenty.