After work, Gemma headed to the Grocery store at the corner of her street. Her cupboards were depressingly empty, so she decided it was finally time to buy some food. Usually she restocked on the weekends, but Wednesday would do.
She moved through the vegetable and fruit section, scanning over the many choices. She stopped by the tomato stand, turning a few of the tomatoes over in her hand. She picked the hidden ones, the ones with deformities, the one that felt slightly squishy, the ones that wouldn't be chosen by anyone else, because people only want the perfect ones. All that everyone ever wants is perfection, and she hated perfection. She hated it because it could never be achieved, and because she could never achieve it.
So she placed her misshapen tomatoes into a bag, and placed the bag in her cart. Yes, she thought, I'm the person who chooses tomatoes if they're ugly. I'm the nut who regards them as if they have feelings. As if.
She continued through the store, picking out the dented gallon of milk, the OJ that stated Pulp Free yet had pulp swirling about the bottom, the apples with brown spots, the net of oranges with a tear in it.
She acknowledged her eccentric behavior, yet didn't care, as she refused to let other's judgements affect her own. If that was the way she thought, pitying the tomatoes, then that was the way she'd think. She didn't care.
After checking out, she clutched the brown paper bag filled with her food to her chest, as she hurried out the doors and across the parking lot.
Turning the corner from one part of the parking lot to the other, she ran into a man. Full force.
Collision was swift, the man with the brown leather jacket and the gelled back hair, strong arms that caught her before she could fall. Her cheek hit his chest, her groceries slipping from her hands. Her tomatoes bounced from the bag and hit the pavement, as she almost had.
She wondered, perfect romantic cliche? But only briefly.
The strong arms that had caught her, forced her away, leaving her to stumble back.
"Watch where you're going, bitch," the man growled, pushing roughly past her, cussing under his breath. She hit the ground hard, her face level with her tomatoes.
Her stupid, deformed tomatoes.
She got to her feet, turning towards the man. She opened her mouth to say something back, to cuss him out for what he really was, but something held her back . . .
Then she would be the same as him. But she couldn't live with being pushed around, treated as a worthless tomato.
So she scooped up a particularly mushy one, and chucked it at his back.
He turned slowly, rage glinting in his eyes. She scooped up what was left of her groceries, and ran.
YOU ARE READING
Sip by Sip
Romance(Lowercase intended on cover) "The simple things in life are never meaningful, and the meaningful things in life are never simple. So maybe I don't want meaningful. Maybe I just want someone who cares enough to listen." Gemma Summers and Noah Han...
