August:

"Okay, I've got you down for Tuesdays and Thursdays instead of Mondays and Wednesdays. Does that work?

"Yeah, that's perfect."

"Alright, you're good to go then."

"Ok, thanks."

I turn to leave and as soon as I step out of the backroom I'm hit by the murmur of voices as people checkout and the ruffle of papers and bags as cashiers receive payment and baggers fill their bags. It is lively but there's still considerably less people from a few months ago and now everyone's face is covered by a mask, with all sorts of varieties from the classic blue paper ones to leopard spotted cloth ones. During the earlier stages of the pandemic there was even a woman in a gas mask. I stifle a laugh as I recall it.

Slipping through the cereal aisle, I make my way up to where the cashiers and baggers are checking people out. I could have taken a more direct path to the exit through the frozen foods section, after all I'm not working today. However, I decided to circle around this way because...

There she is bagging canned beans, in a black uniform shirt like everyone else. However, as she bends down and reaches for another bag there's something about those dark tresses, slightly full lips, and the mole above the corner of her left lip (which I obviously can't see, but I remember being there from pre-COVID). Something in the way she carries herself, calm like an immovable stone in a sandstorm, until the corner of her eyes crinkle and her face transforms into a soft smile. Something that keeps my gaze glued to her, even now as she's methodically stacking cans. Suddenly, she looks up and our eyes meet. She flashes me a nod and quicksilver smile.

"Hey Kristy".

Then her eyes are back down, focused on the bag, and I'm left mourning their loss as my feet carry me out the door. I instinctively head for my car before pausing, then sharply changing direction. I'm walking towards a distinctive black and red motorcycle parked in one corner of the lot. It's so like her. A nervous chuckle escapes me. Calm down Kristy. You know what you're here to do. There's absolutely no point in dragging it out. Just get it over with! If I don't do it now it'll be like I wore these stupidly huge pants for no reason!

Steeling myself, I reach into the gigantic pockets of my huge baggy sweatpants and pull out several crumpled sheets of notebook paper, my lucky pen, and a thick wad of tape. I bend down and begin to write.