The bell rings.
Rain hitting the windows.
A misty rain
Not obtrusive; just rain
On a Tuesday morning
Donuts in a case disappear one by one; reappearing as they disappear.
The television static; not a clear picture
Almost seemingly on purpose
A radio is playing; two people are speaking back and forth.
But the radio is not at a high volume.
The man at the counter is scanning the New York Times
A woman reaches the counter, hands shaking, holding a blue Gatorade and a bag of barbecue chips.
The man, wearing a pale blue sweatshirt and gold watch glistening on his wrist, notices the shaking hands; he pushes a button to his right.
A middle-aged woman appears from behind a swinging door; she places a brown paper bag on the counter.
She vanishes so quickly, it’s as if she was only an apparition.
“Chicken strips, biscuit, red beans and rice”
The woman, with the shaking hands, reaches into her pockets.
The man waves her off.
“Keep the chips and the drink too.”
The woman nods, grabs the food and walks into the rain-soaked streets.
The bell rings, more people moving in and out.
The woman looks back; notices a sign that she did not notice before
Extend life by giving hands.
The man, with the pale blue sweatshirt, tapping the register, as people come to the counter.
Rain hitting the woman’s jacket, she walks into the crowded sidewalks.