The Saddest Person in the Queue
The queue at Lidl
is fucking enormous.
In my basket:
one cheap bottle
of bourbon.
I came in for food.
Changed my mind
somewhere between
the bakery
and the alcohol aisle.
“Next.”
Beep.
“Cash or card?”
The cashier
keeps chewing her gum.
The old woman
in front of me
can’t hear her.
“Cash or card, ma’am?”
Nothing.
She opens her purse
and starts counting coins.
Slowly.
One by one.
People behind me sigh.
I look at her basket.
Bread.
Milk.
Two tins of soup.
Then I look at mine.
Bourbon.
For some reason,
I’m no longer
the saddest person
in the queue.
