Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

At the Grocery Store

Overflowing shelves of produce swept the aisles in the deep, dark corners of the antique grocery store. In a small town where the chess pieces remained constant, moving only from one block to another, she glided into the store, a list in one hand and a book in the other, her body only a vessel to carry her mind, through which great thoughts of politics and world economics hid from sight the nodding heads of familiar face if only she would glance at them.

With a comical expression plastered unto the cashier’s face like the tacky Sheriff Jake nametag on his striped shirt or the cowboy hat, set crooked upon ruffled hair, the boy called out to Libby. He knew her, just like small town people always do; in fact, Jake was her best friend’s boyfriend and quickly becoming close with Libby, too. Jake’s smile quickly became more genuine as Libby, shook out of her dignified stupor, cut across the store to the beat-up, supposedly authentic register that sat in its dusty crack.

“Nice job ya got ‘ere…” she slurred in a thick, southern accent. “You can really pick ‘em.”

“I like it,” Jake squeaked out, his scowl betraying the obvious lie. His accent, a proud Wisconsinite through and through, crumpled beneath the willpower of this country girl-wanna-be, who had never actually been to the South.

Jake quickly dished out her change, a single penny, and placed it on the counter. “For luck,” he declared, “that your soul shall never wither like the politicians you so obsessively fawn over!”

Libby burst out laughing, and before she disappeared into the blizzard outside, she gave him a playful punch on his shoulder.

More writing by this author

Blogs on This Site