Tolstoy & the Checkout Girl
Lis Anna
Tonya was the only thing that made him smile. The purple and blue streaks in her hair reflected morning sun perfectly. She was the checkout girl at the Sav-A-Lot. He shuffled through her line in his heavy woolen pants. Tonya snapped and popped her gum. Watermelon. Sour apple. Sweet wild cherry. An intoxicating fragrance to be sure. Tonya blew a bubble, then asked, “Will that be all?” Tolstoy dropped his eyes to the cracked floor. “Da.” He glanced up fast enough to see her cock her head to one side, her ponytail slapping her shoulder. She was watermelon today. “You’re going to die of heat exhaustion if you don’t ditch that getup.” Tolstoy looked down at his trousers. He’d learn to adjust. To what he wasn’t sure. Or for how long. “$22.36,” Tonya popped, pulling her head back in place. Pink and blue glitter sparkled on her eyelids. He wanted to dust his body with those pink and blue flecks. He pulled money from his pocket, handing it to Tonya to count. American currency made no sense. He counted by Rubles.
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