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So I walked into Walmart. I needed Half & Half, blueberries, oranges, along with some other stuff.
As I approached the checkout line something immediately aroused my attention.
Whoa.
It was the cashier. Her shape captured my imagination like no other.
Before I pushed my shopping cart to her checkout line, I pulled out my phone.
"What is going over me?!" I thought. I usually play it safe and avoid entrapping myself in risky business. This time was different.
I tap the camera icon. Record.
What the hell am I doing.
Please. No. Please.
I can't keep it together no matter how hard I try.
An aura of anxiety radiates off me. I cannot control it.
"You need to fucking relax, cocksucker. Don't start that shit, man."
I nervously toss my shit on the conveyor belt with my right hand. My left hand is being used to record.
She looks at me.
Ah fuck. I wasn't ready for that.
She can feel my anxiety. My awkwardness, my anxiousness, the tension are solarlike -- one quick look and she must look away to avoid pain.
She finds relief in looking down.
She scans my laxatives. I have a bad digestive system.
She scans my allergy tablets. I'm allergic to my grandma's cat.
She scans.
And scans.
Left, right. Swipe.
Jiggle, jiggle.
Beep.
...
Beep.
Auburn hair. Do I dare?
"Would, would you like to go grab some coffee sometime? I know this really good place that's off the beaten path."
Beep.
...
...
Beep.
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!
She saw! She fucking saw!
Fuck.
She knows.
As I approached the checkout line something immediately aroused my attention.
Whoa.
It was the cashier. Her shape captured my imagination like no other.
Before I pushed my shopping cart to her checkout line, I pulled out my phone.
"What is going over me?!" I thought. I usually play it safe and avoid entrapping myself in risky business. This time was different.
I tap the camera icon. Record.
What the hell am I doing.
Please. No. Please.
I can't keep it together no matter how hard I try.
An aura of anxiety radiates off me. I cannot control it.
"You need to fucking relax, cocksucker. Don't start that shit, man."
I nervously toss my shit on the conveyor belt with my right hand. My left hand is being used to record.
She looks at me.
Ah fuck. I wasn't ready for that.
She can feel my anxiety. My awkwardness, my anxiousness, the tension are solarlike -- one quick look and she must look away to avoid pain.
She finds relief in looking down.
She scans my laxatives. I have a bad digestive system.
She scans my allergy tablets. I'm allergic to my grandma's cat.
She scans.
And scans.
Left, right. Swipe.
Jiggle, jiggle.
Beep.
...
Beep.
Auburn hair. Do I dare?
"Would, would you like to go grab some coffee sometime? I know this really good place that's off the beaten path."
Beep.
...
...
Beep.
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!
She saw! She fucking saw!
Fuck.
She knows.
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