The City Market

My essentials list finally got big enough to justify a trip to the store.

Grabbed the list. Grabbed the bags. Grabbed my newly crafted grey paisley mask, and out the store I pranced.

All kinds of excited to see other human beings.

Which turned out to be rather disappointing because walking into a food store with everyone glaring suspiciously over top of their masks and avoiding all contact with each other feels really fucking creepy and post-apocalyptic and not fun at all.

I sat in my truck before walking into the store, watching to see if others were wearing masks because there’s this part of me that is so averse to hysteria that I still wonder if this is all a bit dramatic.

I didn’t want to look pretentious.

I firmly decided that yes, I would do it. Over my ears it went, immediately steaming up my glasses. I put on my non-latex gloves, grabbed my shopping bags knowing that I would have to bag my own groceries if I insisted on using them, grabbed a freshly disinfected cart and a handful of wipes and aimed straight for Starbucks.

Not getting a lotta lattes these days.

I screamed out my order through my double-thick muzzle, smiled at the cashier even though he didn’t know it and waited impatiently for my fix.

Next, I had a prescription to pick up so I got in line for the pharmacy.

I looked up as I lifted my cup and caught the eye of the pharmacist who watched me attempt to drink my coffee through my mask.

Yeah, I did that.

 

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