Tuesday, September 3, 2019

The little girl in line in front of me at the supermarket is pulling on her hair (long, brunette, with blond highlights at the edges) while tapping a complex rhythm on her forehead. In the midst of checking out, her mother had said "Oh!" and run off into the depths of the store. This happens a lot -- usually, I think, here in the Fast Checkout aisle. The cashier sighs and raises his eyebrows and hands. The last remnants of curly white hair form a fuzzy crown on his otherwise bald head, making him look like Ben Gurion or an earthly incarnation of the shrug emoji. He might be able to suspend their transaction, move on to other customers, then resume it, but if it's anywhere near as complicated a process as it was when I was a cashier, it's probably easier just to deal with the grumbling of the other waiting customers. The mother meanders back, not carrying any merchandise, and finishes checking out as if nothing had happened. The girl wraps her arms around her, pleased that she has finally returned.