Bodega Talk

I empty my basket at the counter. Six individual cans of strong imported beer. A plastic bottle of ’Tums’ antacids. A box of frozen French Bread Pizza. A jar of jalapeno peppers. The wiry cute middle-aged blond checks the items, then checks me out. I flash my eyebrows, sometimes it works. Her smile suggests that she knows. Has seen it all before. I smile back, signaling I know that she knows. “Did you find everything you needed’? “Yes Debora”. I see her name tag. I pick up my plastic bag, turn to leave expecting to hear parting words. Silence, But in my head I hear: ‘have a good one’.