So I walked into Walmart. I needed Half & Half, blueberries, oranges, along with some other stuff.

It was a hot May night. The Hublot sticker on my grandma's station wagon was deteriorating under the Moreno Valley sun. I needed a cold Pepsi.

As I approached the checkout line something immediately aroused my attention.

Whoa. It was the cashier. Her shape captured my imagination like no other. Before I pushed my shopping cart to her checkout line, I pulled out my phone.

"What is going over me?!" I thought. I usually play it safe and avoid entrapping myself in risky business. This time was different. I tap the camera icon. Record.

What the hell am I doing. Please. No. Please. I can't keep it together no matter how hard I try. An aura of anxiety radiates off me. I cannot control it.

"You need to fucking relax, cocksucker. Don't start that shit, man."

I nervously toss my shit on the conveyor belt with my right hand. My left hand is being used to record.

She looks at me.

Ah fuck. I wasn't ready for that.

She can feel my anxiety. My awkwardness, my anxiousness, the tension are solarlike -- one quick look and she must look away to avoid pain. She finds relief in looking down.

She scans my laxatives. I have a bad digestive system. She scans my allergy tablets. I'm allergic to my grandma's cat.

She scans. And scans.

Left, right. Swipe.

Jiggle, jiggle.

Beep.

...

Beep.

Auburn hair. Do I dare?

"Would, would you like to go grab some coffee sometime? I know this really good place that's off the beaten path."

Beep.

...

...

Beep.

SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! She saw! She fucking saw! Fuck. She knows.

She knows.

...

...

...

I love you, Meagan.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jLts_1Yl-g