Tessa seriously reconsidered her decision to quit pilates last year when she heaved the first 40-pound bag of rice from the store shelf into the elderly woman’s shopping cart.
The second bag made her question why she agreed to help the woman in the first place.
But it was the third bag that sent a sharp tweak of anxiety to her brain, but she couldn’t quite place why. By the fourth bag, the cold sweat under her yoga pants prickled her skin.
When the cart was filled well past its intended capacity, Tessa straightened and gave a quick nod to the woman, ready for her thank you, but she only returned Tessa’s scrutiny, her eyes narrowed, wrinkles fanning over her skin above her bright blue surgical mask.
“Something’s coming.” The crone jerked her head towards the meagre contents of Tessa’s cart. “You need to prepare.”
One carton of eggs. Two loaves of flaxseed bread. Four Lunchables. And a bag of organic coffee beans. A carton of soy milk. Tessa thought she was prepared for what her family needed for the next few days. But now, doubt twisted through her mind like weeds in her rose bushes.
The woman grasped her cart and gave it a shove with a small grunt of exertion and Tessa was forced to jump aside, her hand pressed to her heart. Letting inertia do its work, the woman glided past Tessa, towards the empty check-out line, the rusty wheels squealed the whole way under the weight of its contents.
Taking a step back, Tessa pursed her lips and her gaze wandered further down the aisle to the tall grey shelves on either side. Even this early in the morning, there were noticeable gaps in the shelves, watering the seed of uneasiness inside her. She remembered a brief mention of something on the radio this morning, while she flipped channels in her quest for some good music, about people hoarding toilet paper, but it sounded too funny to be real news. And she hadn’t reached the tissue aisle yet to see if it was true. She lingered and her brain checked and double-checked the details of what she had already seen and heard today, her thoughts scored to the beat of WHAM on the store P.A..
With a fleeting look down the aisle for other customers, she returned to the shelf and gripped the edges of the fifth bag of rice, wondering if she would need more.
(c) Elvira Berezowsky
コメント