A colleague and I went to Target to replenish work drinks today, and on the way back I stopped at a quick-rip to feed my habit. (Yes, still. Soon.)
When I went in, there was a large guy off to the side of the counter, holding court on whatever the hell was in his mind at that second (and then the next second, and the second after that). He didn’t sound drunk or otherwise chemically influenced; just talky (and loud). While I was waiting in line, the cashier shushed him a time or two, to no avail.
I didn’t get a dangerous vibe from him, but thought I’d double-check with the cashier anyway when it was my turn. It doesn’t take long to call the cops, after all. So I asked her “is everything all right?” She smiled and said “yes, I just need to get home to my screaming children so I can have some quiet.” It felt genuine, so I smiled back, glad everything was cool.
She was 45ish, with blonde hair and melancholy eyes. She had probably been a true stunner at one point and was still attractive, but whatever she’d dealt with in her life had taken a moderate toll.
About then I noticed that “whatever she’d dealt with” included a rather dramatic detail. I had thought at first that she was wearing a pink choker necklace, but a second look revealed that it was a scar. It ran from a bit below her right ear, took a bit of a curve, and ran straight across just above her clavicles. It was far too long and irregular to be a surgical scar, and it was too multiaxial to be the result of running into something. Here she was, smiling and selling me cigarettes, but sometime, somewhere, someone had cut her throat.
Well, that beats the living shit out of the worst day I ever had. Funny how you can stop for a minute on a quick errand and collect an image that will stay with you for the rest of your life.
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Wonderful post.