(no subject)
"I'm evolving in a vacuum," she muttered to herself. But she knew it wasn't quite so dramatic. It never is. A delicate dance of words ensnaring her reality would perhaps be a more apt description. She found that she couldn't help but look at strangers with uncalled-for warmth. The man wearing the baseball tee, the roguish boy and his delicate wrists, the woman with the dark eyes...
She caught herself staring at someone's shoulder blades in the middle of the produce section at the supermarket. In the midst of her reverie, the fruits and vegetables began to take on various personalities, a noisy crowd of alter egos clamoring to make themselves known to her. The ears of corn, coyly revealing rows of kernels in a toothy grin, mocked her mercilessly. "Silly girl," they snickered. The rotund onions joined in with jocund laughter. The ripe glistening strawberries sighed in amused resignation, like proper ladies who had just been shown some vulgar trick. Bunches of asparagus stood firm like stern, scowling fathers, scrutinizing her under their disapproving glare. Only the red chili peppers in the corner cheered for her, their odd, twisted shapes sticking out like tiny fists pumping enthusiastically under the florescent light.
She shook her head and realized that her arms were covered in goosebumps. Damn air conditioning. Damn this town and its penchant for recycled air. How comforting it is to think, though, that everyone tries to escape the world outside somehow.
The night air, warm and humid, enveloped her as she exited the store with nothing but a round-bellied zucchini squash tucked away in her tote. The cashier had looked at her strangely, puzzled by her singular purchase, but she knew all too well the allure of its delightful sheen and accommodating nature.
It would be perfect in a savory fritter. Or perhaps baked into a sweet bread. She contemplated its fate all the way back, gradually forgetting the day's follies with each homeward step.
She caught herself staring at someone's shoulder blades in the middle of the produce section at the supermarket. In the midst of her reverie, the fruits and vegetables began to take on various personalities, a noisy crowd of alter egos clamoring to make themselves known to her. The ears of corn, coyly revealing rows of kernels in a toothy grin, mocked her mercilessly. "Silly girl," they snickered. The rotund onions joined in with jocund laughter. The ripe glistening strawberries sighed in amused resignation, like proper ladies who had just been shown some vulgar trick. Bunches of asparagus stood firm like stern, scowling fathers, scrutinizing her under their disapproving glare. Only the red chili peppers in the corner cheered for her, their odd, twisted shapes sticking out like tiny fists pumping enthusiastically under the florescent light.
She shook her head and realized that her arms were covered in goosebumps. Damn air conditioning. Damn this town and its penchant for recycled air. How comforting it is to think, though, that everyone tries to escape the world outside somehow.
The night air, warm and humid, enveloped her as she exited the store with nothing but a round-bellied zucchini squash tucked away in her tote. The cashier had looked at her strangely, puzzled by her singular purchase, but she knew all too well the allure of its delightful sheen and accommodating nature.
It would be perfect in a savory fritter. Or perhaps baked into a sweet bread. She contemplated its fate all the way back, gradually forgetting the day's follies with each homeward step.