Tra-a-a-a-n-s-action

Cashier and customer, a matched pair.

The woman was only buying flowers and a couple of bottles of wine, so why did this simple transaction take endless discussing and Q-and-A-ing and packing and repacking, all at a glacial pace? Why were there so many decisions to be made and remade? She seemed oblivious to the presence of other people in line behind her.

The cashier's black hair and black clothes and slow voice and lethargic motions seemed to suck all the energy out of the room. At least it swallowed mine. I was next in line, but by the time I got my turn I could hardly summon the strength to say, "Senior discount, please."