Three Corners – The IGA

Three Corners – The IGA

She lay still.

Completely stiff.

Staring at the harsh fluorescent lighting… There was a crack near the metal vent, directly above.

It was cool though, blissfully cool, blissfully quiet.

Someone else’s child was screaming in the distance.

Someone else’s partner was quibbling about the necessity of quinoa.
She wiggled slightly, her hair making a comforting crunching noise and she folded her hands across her stomach and finally relaxed. The cool penetrating the thin cotton dress and the crispness of the air making everything seem, fresh.

Renewed.

There was a slight clearing of a throat above, and reluctantly she opened one eye.

A troubled face.

A young face.

Once she would have known who it belonged to, but today she couldn’t remember and she didn’t care.

A young face, wearing the supermarket uniform.

She adjusted her head again and closed the eye.

‘Um…’

‘What?’ she snapped, eyes flying open angry at being disturbed once more.

‘Um… Ma’am’ he nervously looked behind and she followed his gaze to take in the crowd that had gathered.

‘Well?’

‘Um ma’am… could you kindly move your leg Mrs Johnson wants some peas….’

And then he fled.

She slowly pulled a packet of peas from behind her thigh and held it out over the edge of the freezer so Mrs Johnson, a tiny blue rinsed grandmother, could reach them.
Then she settled back into the freezer to wait for the hot flush to pass.