I only had four minutes to catch the bus when I was intercepted.
I'm certain he'd been watching me as I raced to get to the other side of the checkout section...
...he just sauntered up to the end of his lane and beckoned with a gesture that suggested he was familiar--he wasn't,
but it wouldn't be the first time my indigenous distinctions were mistaken for something else.
He was a sampling of Michigan's reformed white trash; clean, but not enough to hide the grease that festered on the edges of his hair line.
His glasses couldn't hide the scowl that seemed to be embossed into his face and they certainly didn't hide the disdain in his muddy brown eyes.
I couldn't tell if he hated me or if he simply hated his job.
Maybe 'cashier at the local grocery store' was all he would ever be able to acquire...
...maybe he hated that the most.
I could see his cloudy soul as he met my wandering glances, asking his scripted questions:
"...doing okay today?"
"...is this all for you?"
"...and do you need that?"
My thumb grazed his skin when he was handing me the receipt...I knew I had touched filth.
Some people come into the world that way, never escaping original sin.
They are transient among us, only visible when they wish to be seen.
And always uncomfortably familiar.
But it's clear they are of a malicious persuasion,
just waiting to consume those who unknowingly expose themselves to their intentions.
I snatched up my things and wrenched myself away....praying he would never emerge to feed.