In Our Midst. . .

I have transversed several aisles, mostly aided by memory, occasionally succumbing to the list.
Having made the final turn, the homestretch from my left’s peripheral – I stare at the choices: smoked turkey slices; cured turkey or honey turkey…

‘Pardon me’ he politely refers as he walks in front slowly and passes.

He has long hair, well on its way to all grey. He walks on his heels to compensate for the large belly that draws him forward. But he slides, almost effortlessly and had he not said a word, might have gone unnoticed.

Regular turkey it is, provolone cheese, chicken thighs and up to the register I move with haste – for I despise shopping.

‘Excuse me, would you mind if I went ahead?’

It is the same polite, soft voice. He has only a few items: energy drink, snickers & frozen dinner.

“Of course, by all means..” immediately leave my lips, as I stack my weekly items, in an odd curious thought.

His eyes are a soft blue azure with the left slightly a skewed from the right. It is his demeanor of calm though, a voice overly polite and not quite reconciled by his appearance that wholly expects to receive my answer, before even asked.

He pulls out a crisp $100 bill for his few items, as his eyes take a walk up and down the check out girl.

She is nondescript with a soft white pasty complexion usually derived from poor diet and she barely glances up from the scanner.

‘How you doing, we’ve met?’

‘Maybe, ok’

‘How’s life?’

‘Ah you know…’

‘what’s your name?’

At this point, the line behind me builds and I am staring straight at the guy who now chats up someone he is pretending to have met.

But she is perhaps lonely and looks up to him to deliver his $89.32 in change with a soft smile that reveals teeth, long neglected.
‘Sofia’

‘Cool, I am Ron’.

With an assured tone intended so that she would not forget.

‘I hope to see you again, real soon’

He says slowly with total assurance while wholly aware of the line behind me.

He has just succumbed a potential target – populates my impatient mind.

With haste now, I push my carriage though the sliding doors into the freedom of a day that awaits from shopping.

To my left, calmly leaning in the shadows some forty feet away, he looks up as I emerge. Our eyes lock and for the first time I discern some discomfort in his demeanor.

Surely he must observe the same in mine, for I am unsettled.

I turn away, load the groceries and give my cart to an elder woman and drive away …

…wondering if I just came across a serial killer in our midst and if anyone would ever see a simple cashier named Sofia after today . . .