Drift

I'm convinced that Jason*, my seafood person, has a crush on me.

Okay, he is not my seafood person. He just happens to work in the seafood section of my local grocer.

I can't believe it was only February when we first met. Perhaps that was when i started making real food again instead of having one piece of wheat bread with ketchup and sweet relish the entire day. I can't tell ya, since i hadn't tied a ribbon on my index.

I gave him the cold shoulder then because i'm always wary of inquisitive strangers. Oh, and enthused young'un's.

I'd return every Thursday or Friday, and he was always cool and distant. And efficient. So i'd be curt too. Neither would smile.

He hated me. Me in my business attire in a whirlwind to order him around. The jock who towered over me. He couldn't have been more than 26 or 27. A decade my junior.

I don't recall the pivotal point now, if there was an official one. But it would be almost like he'd be waiting for me. Knowing i'd be there, looking like hell after a long day, hair disheveled, lips dehydrated and unretouched. And he'd be eager to please.

Perhaps i live in a fantasy world. But i think i can tell when someone is flustered in my presence.

Two weeks ago, he was on break outside his comfort zone. And i was browsing outside seafood. I was caught off guard and my instinctive reaction to the encounter was actually a heartfelt "Hi!" and a big smile.

It was more than well reciprocated. He seemed pleasantly surpirsed.

Last Friday i didn't need seafood. But i found myself wandering toward the section anyhow. After all, it was a natural turn after wheat bread.

The corner was desolate. You could hear crickets. If there were crickets.

There was a void I felt well into the night.

Today, i actually needed tilapia and tiger prawns (stay tuned for marvels this weekend!) As i approached my passion i saw that Jason was working in the back room.

He was before me before i could say "Tempura!"

He asked me how i was.

"Good!" Was my standard response even though i scarsely meant it. "How are you?"

"Good," Jason replied. "And you?"

We both froze. "Oh," murmured Jason. "I just asked you that, didn't i?"

Then he blushed.

"I do it too," i said. "It's all good."

But for the rest of the transaction it was a real effort to look him in the eye.

It was only when he was weighing my tiger prawns then i scrutinized his name tag to learn his name.

You'd think you could read flustered, huh? After all, blushing is involutary. Unless you're a trained Tibetian monk who has command over your heart rate and stuff... Either he was affected, or he was stoned.

I've said this before: Gimme any object of affection. Indeed.


*Not his real name