Supermarket Small Talk
“Is that you? Oh, of course it is!”.
I wish it wasn’t.
“It’s been so long!”.
Not long enough.
“How long has it been? High school?”.
Ugh. “Yeah”, I say with a smile faker than Heather’s new cheekbones. “It’s been a while”. I give her a polite nod and turn around, pretending to be engrossed in the latest tabloids, and praying the 17 year old cashier will get a move on.
“How have you been?”, Heather doesn’t take the hint, expecting me to humor her constant questions.
Since I can’t tell her that I spend most of my time in public avoiding soul-suckers like her, I give her the always acceptable, “Fine”.
“Oh, life’s just great isn’t it?”, she muses.
Not this particular moment.
She keeps going, “Adam and I just moved into a farmhouse, and my blog is really taking off!”.
Her blog about how hard life is in upper-class suburbia.
Yes, I’ve read it.
Stop judging me.
“What have you been up to?”, she narrows in
“Contemplating how badly I want these bananas, or if ditching them and this conversation would be worth it”.
I said that one out loud.
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