Next please.

Jeans. Band tee. Casual. He comes to my checkout with cheap beef and fresh vegetables. Stir fry, perhaps.

‘Hey how you going’, I say. I’m contractually obligated to ask everyone I serve.

He smiles at me, ‘I’m well. How are you?’

He seems to actually expect an answer.

‘Good, thank you. Receipt’s in the bag.’

Dark chinos. Dress shoes. Polo with his workplace logo. Hair slicked back. His cart has a bottle of vodka and six packets of chips.

‘Hello again...Chris.’ I point to the badge on his chest.

‘Hello again...Drake.’ He points back, ‘cool name, by the way.’

‘Thanks, I picked it myself.’ It’s a cliché trans joke, and he laughs like an insider. I swipe the items through one by one and bag them.

‘You having a party?’

‘I am, indeed.’

‘Hope it’s a good night. Receipts in the bag.’

Suit. Tie. Floral socks. The guy with him is dressed the same, but much taller. They head to the toiletries aisle and then stumble up to my counter.

‘Drake.’ He nods. The word comes out slow and garbled.

‘Chris. What can I get for you two?’

‘These,’ the new man says, throwing a box of Durex at me, ‘and a pack of Winnie Blues.’

Chris blushes. He sways like it might fall over.

Our nameless Prince Charming doesn’t look at me once. I’m just a self serve checkout with inconvenient extra steps.

‘Receipt?’ I offer. Charming dismisses me with a wave of his hand.

Blue Gatorade. Panadol. Chris comes in alone in sweats and a pair of sunglasses.

‘Rough night?’ I offer.

‘You could say that.’ I could see the strain of a headache between his brows.

‘The yellow one is better for hangovers.’

‘Huh?’

I point to the blue bottle. ‘The yellow is better.’

He leans down to the fridge and swaps blue for yellow. The fridge with sodas and chocolate bars at kid height.

‘I’ll try anything.’

‘Receipt?’

‘Nah.’

Cliff bars. Protein powder. Iced coffee. Athletic clothes.

‘Thanks for the tip.’ He says. Our eyes meet and my heart pounds. God, he is beautiful.

‘Huh?’ I have a thousand thoughts and get a single word to come out.

‘Yellow Gatorade. Did the trick. You were right.’

‘Oh. Glad I could help.’

For months it’s protein powder, chicken breast, and vegetables. He starts wearing sleeveless shirts as his biceps swell to superhero proportions. It’s all small talk and polite chit chat. Occasional flirtation.

Frozen meals. A bottle of vodka. Yellow Gatorade. He’s shucked the athletic wear for oversized hoodie and stained sweatpants. His eyes are rimmed in swollen red. He shuffles to the checkout like a zombie.

‘Receipt?’

He mouth ‘no’ but is silent.

His weekly shop continues to consist of frozen meals and Gatorade. A bottle of vodka turns to three turns to five each week. The sunglasses become a permanent feature of his face. Attempts to talk to him are met with stony silence.

One bottle of vodka. No food. A packet of razor blades. I have never seen him buy the rest of the razor.

‘Chris. Hey, how you going?’ I am contractually obligated to ask, but I really want to know.

‘I’m all good, Drake. All good.’

‘You don’t have to sugar coat it for me. I really want to know. Are you okay?’

Chris’ body starts to tremble. His mouth a tight line. Tears drip from behind his sunglasses.

‘Listen. Do you want to go somewhere quiet for a bit?’

He nods.

I take him into the cool room behind the dairy section. Our breath fogs in front of us. We sit cross-legged on the concrete like children. I can’t tell if he’s sobbing or shivering. Maybe both.

‘Okay. Can you tell me what’s been going on lately?’

He takes in a raspy breath and then tells me everything. The breakup with Prince Charming. The coming out to family. The rejection. The hopelessness. The drinking. The note he’s already written. The plan to disappear.

I tell him about my own family. My own rejection. How I never hear from them. My own notes. How I’m still here in spite of everything.

Oh, how resilient we are.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ He pulls the sunglasses from his face.

‘Of course.’

He hesitates. Fidgets.

‘Can…can I kiss you?’

I nod.

We kiss until we are warm and dazed.

Chris gives me the blades he bought. I refund them and return them to the shelf.