Walls and Reflections, Sage Caballero, photograph
as a menace, a threat to society, never to be allowed into a grocery store again without being carefully watched by a dozen guards. Or, you know, I would just be fired. That’s an option too. I continue sending food along to Jack. As the customer’s groceries begin to dwindle, I grab an apple from the cart. I inspect it for a moment—a ripe gala apple. It would be so easy to take a bite. There’s no packaging, no bag, just an easy target. “Sir?” I look up. Jack and the customer are staring daggers at me. “You’ve been looking at that apple for thirty seconds,” Jack says. “Oh. Right, yeah,” I stammer. “I, uh,
forgot the code for these.” I actually have forgotten—or perhaps my starvation is eating away at my memory. I spend another minute finding the code. The customer, with even more annoyance than the others, grumbles his thanks and takes his groceries away. There’s a brief lull. I desperately scan my surroundings for a manager. If I find one I can plead my case for freedom from the trap into which I have unwittingly placed myself. Alas, there are no managers at the front. I could just abandon my post, but I don’t want to risk angering management or putting undue pressure on my coworkers. I 67
