An ordinary Sunday afternoon, out with my devil spawn at the local Whole Foods shopping for stuff to stuff in school lunchboxes. The regular complaints: “Oreos that are organic!! Why can’t we get real Oreos?” “How come they don’t sell Heinz ketchup?” “Noooo, those veggie chips are so gross!”
There was a line at the checkout.
“Why don’t they have Entertainment Weekly?”
Directly in front of us stood a teenage girl, her organic double-fudge, peanut-butter, mud-chocolate granola bar the sole item on the counter. She was looking at the cashier, her straight black hair falling down, hiding her face from us.
The cashier picked up the item, zinged the barcode. She was about to hand back the granola bar, then thought the better of it.
“You’re very beautiful,” she said to the girl.
“Thank you!”
“No, really, you are beautiful.”
This was becoming interesting.
“So who were they?”
“Chinese and Norwegian,” the girl replied, without missing a beat.
What the hell were they talking about?
“Anywhere else?”
“Nope.”
The penny dropped.
“Can… can I see?” I said to the side of the teen’s head. She turned and smiled.
“Wasn’t I right?” the cashier said to me triumphantly. And, yes, she was – the girl was striking, unusual, of a beauty I’d never seen before.
The girl turned back to the cashier, who, it should now be said, was in her mid-twenties – and was no slouch in the beauty department.
“What’s yours?” the girl asked.
“Filipino and Irish,” the cashier replied carelessly.
“Got it.”
The two nodded, and then the girl left.
An organic moment.
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