5.2.2009
He caught me before I could put on my bright smile, restore the gleam in my eye, the flirt in my face.
He caught me lost in my disconnect, my swimming, floating, drowning.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
So gently I almost didn’t hear.
So gently it didn’t rouse me.
I stayed in that liminal state, half awake, half asleep.
Dozing in daylight.
Autopilot.
“I’m fine, thank you. Just tired,” I covered.
“I just wondered,” he said. “You don’t seem like yourself.”
“Thank you. Thank you for worrying. That’s so kind.”
Am I so transparent, I wondered. So transparent that this man who doesn’t even know my name can tell without a word when I’m not feeling well?
I turned my attention back to him.
“How can I help you?” he asked as someone approached and interrupted our conversation.
“Muenster cheese, please,” I requested of him. “A half pound.”
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your book is gonna be so awesome!
you are such a great writer lisa, love this little scene at the deli counter, it is very familiar, and i have been the person on the other side of the counter, slicing the muenster for those who barely acknowledge that the slicer is a person too, and i know you are not one of those people, you see people for their happy or sad, good day or bad, and so they can see you too. xo