Monday, March 12, 2018

Apocalyptext

My anxiety mounts as I reach the front of the line at Trader Joe's and Katie still hasn't returned, when the bored young man leaning against the barrel directs me to a register.

I'm furiously texting Katie in response to her queries, ending with "Register 24 - Hurry," as the (also bored) cashier scans and bags my frozen tuna burgers and frozen tamales.

Finally, just as he bags my last item, Katie appears, arms laden with treasures and a giant, breathless smile on her face.

"These are some pretty end-of-the-world texts," Katie says, checking her messages.
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One year ago: Still Winter
Two years ago: Spring Looks Delicious
Three years ago: Normal
Four years ago: The Art of the Deal
Five years ago: Some People Shouldn't Be In Customer Service, Or In Public

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