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About to Snap |
by Janet Yung
Lucinda didn't know she was about to snap. Not as she stood inside the supermarket and struggled with the plastic basket someone had carelessly jammed on top of the rest, making retrieval of a single one almost impossible. Muttering under her breath, she marveled at the thoughtlessness of others. How much time would it have taken to properly replace the basket, guaranteeing the next person would be saved from such a battle?
She didn't know she was about to snap, intent on purchasing a couple necessities she remembered, sitting at the intersection with a red light which refused to change to green, the store's sign beckoning. Necessities placed at the back of the store, forcing her to pass through aisles lined with cookies, cakes, candy and junk food she was desperately trying to avoid. Things responsible for her being in the current shape she was in, causing her doctor to say at the last weigh in, "Lucinda, you need to lose some weight." A doctor who was no featherweight himself.
She didn't know she was about to snap as she walked briskly towards the dairy case, blinders on to prevent being coerced into stuffing one or two impulse purchases into her basket. Pieces of junk that appealed to her for no reason other than the promise of perfection in the kitchen they alluded to. Pots, pans, measuring cups, knives and an assortment of gadgets she'd been amassing for years, leaving her husband Tom to ask if they worked so well, why was her cooking so mediocre.
She didn't know she was about to snap when she found the skim milk section practically empty. A couple lonely cartons were pushed to the rear, leaving Lucinda no choice but to step on the bottom shelf and strain to reach the back of the cooler and grab at the handle till she managed to secure one, nearly tumbling to the ground with her prize. Then, noting an expiration date two days away.
She didn't know she was about to snap as two women blocked the cereal aisle with their carts while they chatted mindlessly about some trivial crap not with each other, but a disembodied voice on their respective cell phones. Lucinda stood there for a moment, thinking one of them would have the decency to move. When that didn't happen, Lucinda accidentally bumped into one of them saying, "Excuse me." The woman didn't budge, returning Lucinda's strained smile with a dirty look.
She didn't know she was about to snap as her knees cracked while she squatted on the hard tile floor to dig out the antacid tablets on the bottom shelf. Pills she desperately needed, thinking she'd need to pop open the top before she reached the cashier.
She didn't know she was about to snap as she pushed through the dawdlers in the bakery section, diddling between the designer loaves of bread displayed in chic racks. Lucinda only wanted a plain loaf of whole wheat, nothing special, but next to impossible to find amid the upscale merchandise.
A small child abandoned in a cart shaped like a car began to scream and Lucinda was convinced she was going to lose the hearing in her right ear. But even then, she didn't know she was about to snap.
She didn't know she was about to snap as she clutched her basket and her purse heading for the final hurdle the checkout lines presented, her feet hurting, pinched into shoes that seemed to get smaller the longer she walked in them. People were crammed into the rows, carts loaded to the top. Lucinda sought out the express line. The twelve items or less express line where a women stood simpering at the clerk, "I didn't realize it was twelve items or less." It was only then, her big right toe throbbing, Lucinda knew she was about to snap.
Janet Yung lives and writes in St. Louis. Short fiction has appeared in "The Green Silk Journal," "Muscadine Lines," "Keep Going" and "qarrtsiluni" among others.
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