When I got to work I waddled into the sundry store for my coffee and water, and found I too lacked the patience to wait for the store attendant woman who annoys me day-in, day-out with her propensity to leave me standing at the counter while she finishes whatever menial task she’s tending, unmindful of my need to keep working or get to work so she can be paid. Today another attendant minded the counter while she tagged refrigerated beverages on condensation-covered plastic bottles. She sang her good morning and I returned it with a smile, then reached around her body and opened a refrigerator case’s sliding door, forcing her to extract her hands from the other side of the cabinet or have them smashed by the double-doors. She was trying to ask me to wait, but I was sick of waiting for her, sick of her cavalier attitude with the time of others, sick of her self-important demeanor and attempts to make executives and officers of the company kowtow to her. She had to ask me to let her re-tag the bottle in my hand, the prices were changing she said, and I paused my motion long enough for her to swipe her price tag gun over the old sticker. The new one was twelve cents more. I grabbed my coffee, and went out.
As I write this, I have no idea what was special about this morning, why the normal quiet of a Monday collapsed to a frenzied crush of hurried, harried attitudes and running commuters. I have no idea why the idyllic slumber of the train was shattered by the cacophony of the train station’s bustle, or why I was irritated with the sundry store woman and her price gun.
All I know is this week dawned dark and brooding, a rousing beast within a dank and murky cave, baleful eyes glowing red and angry, wet nostrils spewing acrid, moist smoke. I hear scales clattering and talons scratch on the floor.
Or maybe I’m just sleepy and it’s all my imagination. Whichever.