Fairly Ordinary

When I count $20 bills really fast then John Kerry’s face appears instead of Andrew Jackson. I think its the hair.

I was choosing which fruit to place in my basket when I felt his arms slip around my waist.

My basket swung sharply as I whirled to see who was behind me. A little boy stood there, beaming. He looked to be about 8 years old and he was chuckling.

In my shock, I said rather harshly, “Can I help you?”

His smile grew wider as he giggled, “No, I’m fine.”

I gave him an odd look and then turned my back to him as I once again began picking out my fruit. I figured he was mistaking me for someone else.

About five minutes later, while I was picking out a new razor, he came dashing down the aisle. He flung his arms around me again and said in a whisper, “By the way, I’m Justin.”

My eyes widened a bit and I looked around for his parent. For someone. But no one came.

Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I hugged him back and whispered, “My name is Jennifer.”

“Are you married, Jennifer?”

“No, not yet, Justin.”

He stood with me while I picked out a razor and then we went and glanced through magazines. I couldn’t help but watch him as his eyes took in everything around him. His fingers brushed the slick covers and he asked, “What do you call these?”

“Magazines. Do you like to read, Justin?”

“Oh, yes.”

I asked him if he was excited about Independence Day, if he liked to watch the fireworks, and what his favorite food was. We laughed at the funny looking cupcakes on display and he held my hand while I picked out some new ice cream.

And just like that, he dashed away.

He found me again when I reached the eggs. I had worn my hair down tonight and suddenly I felt fingers running through it.

“You have such pretty hair, Jennifer.”

“Thank you, Justin.”

He gave me one last smile and then I never saw Justin again tonight.