Just a thought

Three old women have left the store. The youngest of them looked like she was gone so far past sixty that if a cop carded her she’d get arrested for speeding. The oldest looked the same just moved slower. And as if I needed any signs of impending mortality, the middle one shared my name. Damn it.

The ladies made it very clear when they came in that they weren’t out shopping, just looking. “You picked a beautiful afternoon for it,” I said. Apparently they mistook the store for a museum. It happens a lot. I should probably mention this troubling phenomenon to my boss. Maybe she could start charging admission?

Methodically, ever so methodically, the trio worked their way up the right side of the store and then down the left. Every sweater elicited an “Ooh, that’s lovely.” Every time they found something in “their colors” there was a discussion about what “their colors” were and wasn’t one of them some kind of pink or was it yellow?

As they shopped – I mean looked – I kept thinking, if I ever get that close to death, please don’t let me spend my last years in a clothing store. Then it struck me, I’m as close to the uncertainty of death as they are and I’m selling my time to sell somebody else’s cloths.