She comes
into Hallmark every Saturday at 4pm. Her
hair is like a puff of cotton candy atop her head, dyed a faint lavender I can
only assume is the result of an improper combination of chemicals. It would have been more graceful to proudly
display her greys. Her clothes are
another attempt to look an age she can no longer pull off. Animal print clings to her chest and arms, on
material stretched too tight that pulls up to reveal the slacking skin of her
stomach atop jeans bedazzled with silver stones. She walks right up to the register in heels
that clack against the tile floors, loudly announcing her entrance. Without regard to other customers or tasks
the worker behind the counter is involved with, she shoves her handwritten
shopping list their face, the contradiction of cheetah patterned nails and
classically trained cursive interrupting all other duties. Her hands betray her; their elasticity is
gone, wrinkles gather the limp skin in ruffles, blue veins and brown age spots
tell of the years she’s endured. She
leads the way to the first item on her list, the employee trailing behind,
getting sick from the overwhelming musk of her Chanel perfume. She shops for greeting cards with
coordinating envelopes she will hand-address.
She asks for help picking out a birthday card for her nephew, anniversary cards for her daughter and her husband. The options on the racks overwhelm her, but
she never likes the suggestions of the workers, young college girls with their
black aprons and decorated nametags, from a generation where a single kissing
Emoji takes the place of a poetic Between You and Me card. She checks out after wasting a half hour of
the employee’s time, her patience thinner than when she sashayed in. Crossing the threshold of the door, her left
heel collapses beneath her foot, causing her to stumble. Embarrassed, she scans the nearby crowd to
see if she’s been found out. Relieved to
see she’s safe, she adjusts her top to show more of her sun-spotted chest and
walks proudly out the door.
This is a great description. I loved that you brought in the heels back in the end when she left, as it gave a full circle vibe. You give great descriptions of her hands and her personality that resonates from them: "the contradiction of cheetah patterned nails and classically trained cursive interrupting all other duties." I also liked how, and I'm not sure if this is the case, her physical description was kind of negative but her inner self was positive. An example of this would bethe comment on the condition of our society while praising hers with the "emjoi" comment. I also liked the end, where she adjusts herself:great writing.
ReplyDeleteYou always do such an excellent job with the way that you describe things. I love how you capture the essence of this woman, from her wildly out of place hair to the extravagance/importance with which she carries herself. I can picture the exact type of woman that you have pictured here, there are tons of them in my hometown. Although, the ruination of their skin usually comes from too much time spent in a tanning bed than legitimate aging. Despite her outward (what I am assuming is) arrogance, I love that you paint her as having an inward sense of self-worth and positivity. I especially loved your comment on our generation and how "a single kissing Emoji takes the place of a poetic Between You and Me card." This is so very true and telling of the world we live in and the woman herself.
ReplyDeleteGreat job!