shaded wings

stormcloud

we were in the line

for some take-away store

(not that a cent existed in our pockets)

and i could smell

the fries;

those heavenly

devilishly good

palm oil consumed fries.

and it was drowning out

the smell of his cologne

and i hated that.

and he hated my silence.

• so, do you work? •

he asked.

hayden, i wish you knew

that i loathed

small talk.

but now

of course

i'd give anything

to small talk with you.

• i make people happy. •

• that's not a job that earns you money

roo. •

• i know.

and i like it that way. •

he was impatient

and it made me laugh.

he watched the screens

above the oily food

featuring that old man

from monopoly

- frozen next to the store's symbol.

• watch this •

i said

as the man before us collected his order.

• next •

the lady behind the register called.

• hello.

i'd like a get out of jail free card please •

the lady looked at me

as if silently asking if I was insane

and no one protested

because it was true.

• i'm sorry, we don't sell those here •

• shhh... i won't tell the other players

you sold it to me

i promise •

and suddenly she smirked.

• ten dollars please •

• of course, my dear •

and he stared at both me and the register

like we were trading drugs

and witnessed me pull out

the fifty dollars

in monopoly money.

• you can keep the change, honey •

and she traded me her empty hand

of an imaginary get out of jail free card

for the faded slip of paper.

• have a lovely day! •

she said, laughing

and i smiled up to him

half expecting him to be speechless

and half expecting him to be laughing too.

but i didn't even get to see his face

because right there

in the line

with the scent of odour and oil

swirling into our nostrils;

he turned to the lady

and said something

that was unpredictable.

• would you be able to provide me

an imaginary burger too? •

maybe two can play

the insane game.