I’m standing at customer service ringing through a customer’s groceries when I notice a woman in line staring at my name tag.
I stare intently back at her letting her know that she’s burning a stare-hole into my shirt.
Then I noticed something else, her teeth. Oh my God, I know those hell hound fangs. I know this chick, it’s Emma. Honestly, it’s the only way I recognized her because her appearance changed a lot.
I guess it’s inevitable. It’s a small world. I work in a local area and I sell food in a supermarket.
Her hair looked different, a little more blonde. Obviously a dye job. This girl and I were friends for many years, until the day she abandoned me as my divorce – as she claimed – made me not as upbeat as she desired.
Damn, I hadn’t seen her in twenty-three years. I thought, why is the universe sticking her on my doorstep now? Dammit, she’s not somebody I ever wanted to see or hear from again. I really regret the time I invested and wasted with her.
We used to work together too, and at the lowest time in my life, this twit dumped me like she just gorged on a fiery vat of spicy chili dogs.
She looked old and haggard, her youthful glow snuffed out. A little more wrinkly, but of course a couple of decades have passed. I have aged a bit too but in comparison I have to say I look like a beautiful goddess.
I remained polite but felt a little uncomfortable. I’m not going to lie, she really freakin’ hurt me years ago. Oh, how I would have loved to ream her out for being such a huge fucking Judas, but I remained calm.
Like a God damned plunger, she brought up old shit in my mind.
I felt triggered. I didn’t have a lengthy conversation with her, I never asked any questions. I felt no desire to care about anything she might have to say. Deep down I just hoped her life was a giant ball of scat. Maybe it is, I don’t think you get very far in life when you treat your friends like absolute puss-inflicted knicker defecation.
“I know you,” I uttered. “You’re Emma.”
“I know you too,” she sneered.
I rang in her purchases and she paid for them. I felt caught off guard and I don’t even remember what she bought, just that she paid by cash. Not that it matters one iota anyway.
Emma shook like a shaky bitch when she realized I recognized her. I’m not sure if she just became super nervous or if she suffered from Parkinson’s.
Deep down, I hoped for the latter~