• n0mad

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“I hate her, she’s such a bitch!”

BEEP

...

BEEP

...

“That’s £20.13.

Do you need a bag?”

Polite smile - forced.

“5p or 10p?

10p ok”

She always wears designer clothes, with a big puffed up jumper, large shoulder bag and oversized designer sunglasses. She never acknowledges anyone, says hi or evens shares a little smile. Bitch. To her, we’re the invisible ones. The scum that only exists to serve her. I think the word bitch was coined for people just like her.

She has this little handbag dog which should be tied up outside, but she thinks the rules don’t apply to her so she brings it in under her arm. Looking like an oversized rat.

“Do you have our programme card?

No?

That’ll be £20:23, please.

Contactless?

Have a great day. Next customer please.”


But she doesn’t leave straight away, she puts her bag on the counter. She begins to rummage through it like she’s the most important person in the store and everyone else can just wait for her majesty to be ready. Porsche keys on the counter, Louis Vitton purse, plain white addressed envelope. Why can’t she queue up again like anyone else? Nooo! She has to hold the queue up and make eeevreeerybody else wait!

I can’t help reading the address on the letter. ‘Dr Urshula Smythe, End of Life Care. Sutton General Hospital, Middlesex, UB3 2UD.’

End of life care?

Oh… maybe that’s why she wears the dark glasses and seems so self-absorbed. Perhaps she or someone close to her is seriously ill. I hope it’s not the children, that would be the worst.

“Would you be a dear and post this for me? ...Charge me for the stamp.” She pushes her credit card across the counter.

Is her voice wobbling?

Is that a tear rolling down from under those huge sunglasses?

The poor woman is sobbing, shuddering, under that huge jumper as she cuddles her dog and kisses him lightly on the head.

I slide the card back.

“Yes, of course, I’ll post your letter. I hope you have a better day.”



---

350 words


[ICE Cambridge Uni: Task to write a 350 word piece set in a convenience store in a style (1st Person in my case) that we wouldn't normally use.]



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