I'm Not Paranoid
Repost from March 2024
ȶɦɛ ֆɨʟʋɛʀ ʟɨռɨռɢ
Episode 9: At Least We Have Options
I felt like I was going to explode. Sweat dripped down my face like an ice cube melting and it wasn’t even Summer yet. If someone were to speak to me, I wouldn’t be able to hear them over my own heart beating.
Usually this 7-Eleven three blocks from my apartment was never crowded because of the limited parking lot space and the busted ATMs and registers. Most people elected to defer to the nicer chain further down by the university but any place desolate was my preferred setting.
Any situation where there were more than four eyes that could potentially follow me was out of my comfort zone. There wasn’t anything in particular that stood out about me per se but being black in America was a crime unto itself and I didn’t want to add anything to that list.
I only went in for a pack of smokes and a gallon of distilled water. That would usually run about ten dollars but now with the added cost of joining a queue of frustrated individuals.
The culprit of the holdup was the newly recruited employee. She looked young enough to attend college but also old enough to have a kid or two. When she saw me, she gave me a smile which seemed to be much more service than other customers had received.
Did she recognize me? I racked my brain for possible explanations of us co-existing. There weren’t many places I showed my face. I work from home so she would have had to live in the neighborhood or frequent the local Anarchist meet up and I definitely knew all of them.
This made my heartbeat ⅛ of a second quicker and my sweat drip three extra drops per minute. I definitely thought I would explode; all I wanted was to smoke a cigarette.
The cashier continued to take her time. Scanning each item progressively slower than the last. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a uniformed pig marched in with a shiny dumb badge and a loaded gun on his holster. It felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on me.
I took notice of the cop’s extra glance at my sweaty demeanor and it put me even more on edge. Consequently, this made everyone else in line stare at me as well.
The next 45 seconds felt like 4.5 hours as I advanced to the front of the line. I put the gallon on the counter and asked for Camel Crush Silvers.
But before I could finish, the pig yelled “Freeze” and pointed his weapon at the back of my head.
“I wish I could,” I half joked, wiping more sweat from my forehead.
I checked my peripheral and all the other patrons had their guns drawn on me as well. Including the cashier, who gave me that same mysterious smile.
There was a unanimous bang and I thought, “Yup, I knew I was going to explode today.”
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