![]() ![]() Isabel turns back to her register, punching buttons at random. “You are a fabulous dairy heiress, after all.” “That seems fair,” I tell her with a solemn nod. “It’s my fault the price of sour cream went up.” Still, I can’t believe I was absorbed enough to miss something actually exciting-if super rude-happening. ![]() I haven’t had anyone in my line in over an hour, hence the magazine. The store is more or less deserted, which has been the case since the giant Walmart opened up on the other side of town, so Isabel and I are the only cashiers working today. Her dark hair is caught up in a messy braid, black against the green of her apron. Isabel Alonso, my best friend and fellow cashier at the Sur-N-Sav, leans back against her register and snaps her gum. I glance up from the magazine I’m paging through. “Some old lady just called me the c-word.” ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |