Our Lady

With seven hollow vibrations, Our Lady of Sorrows' bell sank into the still-salty street and patched grass yards. I crossed into the big lot, passed the gym and Big Lots, then pulled the door. After grabbing a box each of sandwich and freezer bags--four dollars for both--and waiting the requisite two minutes in line, my turn. The young cashier, a girl no more than 17, here working at Family Dollar, rang me up, taking a five and exact change to cover the $4.36. Hands me my change, then speaks,

Thanks for putting the money in my hand. A lot of people just throw it on the counter.

That's how the big shots do.

She comes around and recollects a bunch of mops for sale by the door. Says,

Even though my hand be right here, she adds.

She returns to the register. The next has already lined up behind me.

Thank you.

Have a good night, I hear, pushing back into the big lot.

Concrete sinks beneath me. Cool air lends the hush.