I’m in a hurry my neighborhood supermarket. Working at a job with no schedule makes you one of those people who waits like an idiot at the door at 9 a.m. to pick up the blindfold and reproach him with a contemptuous look for his anxiety. As I walked in with the mechanical door still lifting, I let a thick stream of hydroalcoholic gel fall onto my hands and I radiated energetically on the way to the fish market. I want fresh fish for dinner when we get home from work. There is nothing complicated that requires more detail than an iron. In the background, I hear the deals of the day.
I’m coming first because I’m still quite young and agile and there is an air conditioner that rejuvenates my legs, I was frightened and fascinated by the heat of the street. I suddenly feel a competitive presence behind me, like a competitor. a hitherto unknown he too, with a deep breath, aspires to the first place in the seafood podium. Blinking. An old woman with a pram whose wheels brutally hurt my ankles. If I stop dying now I guess it’s crippling me. Be careful as older people can’t be challenged: they are always the first in the queues of the sites and also how they can get their turn ahead.
Victory pressed the button: I have number 1. My opponent accepts his second place with his sportsmanship. Or so I thought. The clerk emerges from behind the plastic curtains, sharpening a long knife. “A!” she shouts, even though we’re just the two of us. Confidently, I approach the counter with the paper in my hand. Then I hear: Do you have an emperor?». I’m returning. This is it. First sabotage attempt. The clerk answers yes. I take another small step forward and point to something. “But is it fresh?” A voice from behind sneaks up on me again. I grumble, because early in the morning and without coffee is what my anger allows me most. a good thing, a light buffet, as we Valencians say, we are material. Of course it doesn’t even matter. Wars in supermarkets they are made for trench peopleI guess I’m referring to Viking raids with the list in mind so as not to bump into anyone, not like me.
Thousands of sentences shoot through me like arrows over or over my insignificant personality. “And won’t there be sardines?”, “The mussels are not from the outside” or “I prefer the oven to the fryer”. Definitely battered by the environment. The clerk was able to give me the little I asked for, almost communicating with signs, as he continues to hammer me with his persistent demands and demands. Joining my uninterrupted defeat I’m thinking of my grandfather Pepein the dread calling my brother ‘boquerón’ and making me look into the eyes of dead fish as a kid. I think of this woman who left her grandchild at 7am and then chose to take her shopping early because they no longer go out because of the heat, and will make her a sardine today. then everything stinks thoughbecause they are healthy and cheap, because now everything is up, we need to look more at things and look at Conchi what a surprise what are you doing here, how are you, I’ve been so lonely since Paco died You see, I can’t heal, there is no way, luckily I have children because otherwise the days seem endless, I don’t know what to do anymore, all life together and in retirement you seewe couldn’t enjoy it, sometimes I want to go too, let’s see if this girl has made her decision hahahaha she was a joke woman, don’t take it seriously, you ask calmly.
Source: Informacion
Barbara Dickson is a seasoned writer for “Social Bites”. She keeps readers informed on the latest news and trends, providing in-depth coverage and analysis on a variety of topics.