"This shattered dream you cannot justify; We're gonna scream until we're satisfied"

As the hustle and bustle of checkout lines erupts in our neighborhood grocery store, we stand in a slow-moving line. One cart ahead of us is four people unloading it, no one is on a deadline. He looks around me and I through my mask I say, “You stay here. I’ll look at the other lines.”

Dutifully, as if waiting to watch paint dry, he stands with the cart watching the group in front of us.

I step out of line and mosey, perpendicular to the stations, past four stations. I reach one with just a man and his cart. He’s unloading the basket when I step behind him, careful to maintain “social distance.”

An older woman, dressed to be seen with makeup, perfectly coifed hair, a big puffy, ankle-length white coat, and festive face mask, reaches me and stands parallel to me with her cart. She looks at me and nods. I take my place in line.

Seeing I don’t have a cart, she says, “I’ll just go in front of you,” and takes a step closer to inch me aside.

I look at her in disbelief. My head instinctively twists to the side. “Excuse me?”

She stares at me with an expression I can’t make out through the white mask decorated with whimsical green stems and red berries.

“I was here first,” I say. I turn to the side, lift my arms over my head, and wave to my boyfriend who’s standing in the original spot with the cart.

“You don’t even have a cart,” she says, now thoroughly annoyed.

“So.” I retort.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well, you’re a peach, aren’t you?!” She adds, now on the edge of anger.

“So are you,” I add.

For a moment, I look around thinking about the drama that’s about to ensue, the words floating in my head, and the front page of a paper I will surely make if I act any further. She’s not budging, nor is she respecting my place, ahead of her, in line. With my own loud maddened sigh, I step aside, making my way back to my boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved. (The group in front of us is talking with a manager about a poorly-marked soda sale.)

Tis’ the season.