Ten Sexy Ladies: 7-Eleven, 12:45AM
7-Eleven, 12:45AM
Nobody is happy to be here. No one is proud of the decisions they’re making right now. Nothing good will come of this. Our night will not be taking a good turn because of the corn dog rollers, the egg salad sandwich, the porn magazine entitled FUGGO, the 64 fluid ounces of Pepsi mixed with Diet Pepsi, the lottery ticket, the tampons, the 5-hour energy shot, or, in my case, all of the above.
I put everything on the counter and the clerk takes a moment to read the tragic short story written there. When I ask for a carton of Newport menthols I can see something inside him break. Poetry is my life but maybe I should’ve majored in business or something instead? Isn’t web design an actual job now? Maybe I could do that. Yeah. Yes. It’s a new era for Skyler!
I ask if he takes checks and his shoulders sag, defeated. As he bags up my stuff I look around at my fellow shoppers and they do not look back. We go about our business quickly and quietly, eager to get back to the dark safety of our cars, the radio drowning out our thoughts. We shall never speak of this again.
