I feel a bit guilty.
I timed my touch and eye contact with the cashier at Walgreens in such a way that I knew would give her pause.
And it did.
Now I cannot shop there anymore fearing that she thinks I am available.
Sounds horribly arrogant saying so... which adds the feeling of stupidity to the guilt.
It's not like I'm some forward confident player looking to flirt with who I can to see what I can get. Truth be told, when I go out and about in public by my self I am more often then not tired, hungry, headachy, and not remotely social. More often then not, people are simply in my way and I wish them gone. The fact that the Walgreens I go to is pretty much frequented by individuals one sees at Walmart compounds everything all the more. I love it. It's like pounding nails through the bone of my upper orbital eye socket just to anticipate the relief I will feel after pulling them out with pliers.
Which is why I took the time to plan and perfectly calculate the contact I would have with the cashier because she's gotta be there at the very least, 4 hours... and at the most 8, god forbid the souls of still-born kittens through the gates of heaven should she have to pull a double.
So I am standing in line.
I saw her stocking the isle when I first arrived.
She was called up front to help.
I got my shit
Made my way up front to check out
When my unfortunate eyes had the mispleasure of seeing a rather obese younger woman sporting what I first thought was a micro-mini skirt... but my astute sideways glances concluded that they were indeed black cut-off shorts cut all the way up to the crotch.
I wish to specify... black
sweat-pant cut-off shorts.
Even though it was a nice day today, it's still February... in Wisconsin. Even then... I've never seen shit like that in
August.
She and what I am going to guess was her mother were up front at register 1... which even without them being there already had a line long enough for me redirect my momentum towards the B-Team registers.
Glad I did. Only one guy was in front of me... but even then the world my being was forced to tread upon is still way the fuck over populated. I bided my time by taking a standing nap all the while listening for money exchanges or debit card swipes and the tearing of receipts. Sooner or later it all happened and I slid my shit along the counter as the young woman rang me up.
I've seen her before so the social exchange was already familiar. I stole a glance to see if she was wearing another lower cut top under her little blue vest. She was.
She has nice cleavage.
The kind where there is a decent size space between the boobs that creates a little gap between her breasts. She probably hates it. You all are probably like "do my boobs have a gap? What does he mean? I don't know what he's... what if my boobs don't have that gap? How do I know he would like them... Men... why are they always finding things for me to hate about myself because I don't know what any of them find attractive at any given time
! I am going to go cut myself again
"
So yeah... I'm checking her out as she's bagging my stuff. I used my card thinking it would be quicker. This is wrong thinking because big brother is indeed watching so not only am I waiting for my receipt to print I am waiting for all the fucking coupons it is printing out for me based on all the this I have bought with my card.
It was during this moment when it all came to play.
She was just as annoyed as I was about it all... the coupons, the people, the environment.
It was clockwork from there on out.
"Receipt in the bag?"
"Yes please"
she deftly puts the receipt and coupons in the bag as she pulls it up and out from the little bag holder separating it from the ones yet to be used.
I bring my left hand up just as she reaches towards me to hand me my goods. I am not looking at her. Not to come off as shy or out of avoidance... but to shut everything else out... extraneous visuals, extraneous sounds... to key in motion, action, transition, body mechanics.
Her lips move.
My head follows my eyes
My hand follows in the same kind of manner and in perfect unison.
Her words skip across everything
Filling the space between us
I see the shape of her face
Details of it filling my vision
Reading her lips
As I see them
I close in
As she lets go
Her words...
"Have a nice day..."
Her hand lowers to let go
As mine rises to take hold
We touch...
My lips move
Her eyes stutter behind her glasses
She sees me see their color.
Light Hazel.
Almost blonde.
Like the stray strands of straw sticking out of a bale of hay.
My words were spoken.
They take a beautiful forever
Where she finds the color of mine
Blue.
My words ripple across our let go...
You have a nice day as well.
" sometimes, and she's like "
" and she's like "
