I stood in the long, long line for the single opened cashier’s desk.
The monotone ‘beep’ of the scanned items pulsated through the air, sticky with the scent of mushy tomatoes and overripe pineapples.
I had a loaf of bread and a jug of orange juice wedged under each of my armpits. In one hand, I balanced a box with six eggs, with the other I tried to hold unto my keys and the slippery bottle of olive oil. Continue reading “no name # 1”