Eyes downcast,
the middle-aged woman
with unkempt hair
and baggy trousers
shuffles forward
in the designated line.
She extends her hand,
and I place the loops
of the white plastic bag
filled with canned goods
across her open fingers.
She glances up,
and something akin to fire
flashes in the depths
of her dark blue eyes;
I wasn’t always like this,
she says in a husky voice.
Then shuffles away,
her untied shoelaces
gently tapping the tiles.
