by Jeff Glovsky
At 4pm, muffins go on sale … Rolls and croissants, baked breakfast sweets. The discounts wake my office up …
I reach into my pocket, dig out a dollar to pick up a chocolate croissant … and as I’m inching on line toward the “day-old” case, an Indian woman squeals loudly.
“Oh, I can’t believe!” yelps she (she elbowing into line before me) … “Never do find chocolate here!”
She’s seized the last chocolate croissant in her sights, and hastens toward it selfishly.
“It’s mine,” think I … my fear and deflation deeper than the joy she seeps. I’m hoping she might trip and fall (or lose a sandal running) and I advance myself, eyeing the treat. She’s cut in line before me though, and no one stands a chance …
She snatches the last chocolate croissant, she pulls it to her, beams and dances.
“You lucked out,” I (silent sighing) tell her, plastic smile pasted.
“Yes, I did!” she’s raised her eyes to God. She cries, “I surely did!”