I Know A Spot

"One to go, please."

Across the counter, a thick brown paper bag passed scratchily from gloved hand to naked hand. A pump pressed down on a pint-sized Purell and a bubbly jellyfish of sanitizer pumped out, rubbed to oblivion between two naked hands. Red eyes looked up from above a sky-blue mask and toned off a thank you to the next human-shaped box in the row. New plastic hands overtook two naked ones.

Thinking hadn't yet kicked in yet, or had stopped long before now. Input received, order entered, thank and next. Input received, order entered, thank and next. Pump every two. Input received. The machines had won, after all.

There was no feeling from the waist down. Legs did what legs do. Move, stand, move, crouch, move, move, stand. Thank and next. 

The daylight outside might as well have been a Halloween fog, perpetually depositing more boxes off like a cosmic Amazon delivery driver. 

"It's the humidity that's the worst of it," piped a disguised box further up the queue. May as well have been in Canada. Pump every two.

Hands blurred either from the speed of motion or the fact that her contacts had bled so far into her already-bloodshot eyes that she thought she might cross Lasik off her bucket list. Contacts spliced successfully into eye. Call the papers, save thousands with this new regimen.

Who was thinking that, she didn't think.

Input received, order entered.

Strange to keep mason jars here. This isn't a farm. No canning, no jams. Not that there was anything in it. Decor. Thank and next.

Why keep the lights on during the day. That table still had someone's empty bags all over it. They should really do something about that.

Someone said something from behind her wall. Intruders. Protect the queen.

Damn the queen. But protect our homes.

The days were getting so dark out this summer. 
Did you spend a lot of time on this paragraph or did it just flow out?

Across the counter, a thick brown paper bag passed scratchily from gloved hand to naked hand. A pump pressed down on a pint-sized Purell and a bubbly jellyfish of sanitizer pumped out, rubbed to oblivion between two naked hands. Red eyes looked up from above a sky-blue mask and toned off a thank you to the next human-shaped box in the row. New plastic hands overtook two naked ones.

It's one of the best descriptive writings I've read on here. I immediately felt like I was vividly in the scene.
2021-07-21 12:40:59
i wrote the first sentence without an idea where it'd go. then envisioned a snippet of a scene of What Could It Be, then the rest sort of flowed.

i think i like doing so. i write something that catches me in with the first couple sentences, then see what can come out of it. that way i'm not writing myself into any corners or trying to load up on any symbolism or meaning like i've been wont to do in the past, usually to disappointing outcome
2021-07-21 16:57:04
As in your latest comment made me think of it lol not the post it self.
2021-07-22 02:19:23