Picks up a grapefruit & examines it like its a fine gemstone, from all sides. Drops it into her canvas tote bag that says something in some nordic language, maybe Swedish?

Seems to be the world’s largest fan of citrus fruit with duration of time she has stood blocking the kumquats and pomelos.

I’m in a rush, and I need enough limes to get me through a fifth of tequila. My phone beeps reminding me I am supposed to already be in the mix at tonights soiree.

I don’t wish to be rude, so I approach the fruit assortment and manage an “excuse me”

Startled, she turns about face & her eyes are directed at me.

I’m taking her in. She has lavender hair & a splatter of reddish brown freckles across the thin bridge of her nose. She’s probably a ginger who went platinum blonde who went purple whose hair faded to the peculiar shade it is now.

Its jarring she hasn’t said anything or moved out of the way. We have societal conventions for this! The vacancy in her stare suggests she has one mental foot on earth and the other in a far off elysian dimension.

I’m nervous and feel somehow akin to a peeper caught looking in her window. To fill the dead air, I utter I’m there to get stuff for tequila soda limes, halfway under my breath.

I hastily grab a few oblong fruits and drop them into a plastic bag. Her eyebrows tilt downward into a disapproving look and I want to defend myself, “I recycle, you know! I forgot my reusable tote at home!”

No, correction. Fuck this hippie and her judgement. The watershed from her hair dye probably chokes fish ecosystems. I give an indignant look back her way and turn on my heels to self checkout.

I’m halfway there when a feathery yet salient voice cuts across the grocery store.

“Hey!”

Its lavender head & she has a smirk painted across her visage. She’s holding something in her hands, striding towards me.

“Here.. you grabbed lemons”