The queue for ASDA stretched all the way round the car park due to the recent social distancing measures imposed. This wait would be barely tolerable in decent weather, but with the skies a dull white and the clouds heavily pregnant with acid rain, she was anxious to get indoors. Fortunately, she had reached the final S-shaped barrier, so had one turn of the railings left before the comfort of the store’s heated reception and faint scent of fresh baguettes.
As she turned the final railing, she scanned her fellow queuers the other side of the barrier – miserable, makeshift mask-clad, moping forward every thirty seconds. As they shuffled along, a shiny black leather boot came into view and parked itself on one of the many hazard tapes used to indicate the allotted 2 metre distances. Her eyes travelled slowly upwards; smart, dark fitted trousers, then the outline of a velour waistcoat offering forth a powerfully built left arm, encased in a crisp white shirt. Finally she-
“Excuse me.”
In her stupor, the queue ahead of her had progressed but she hadn’t.
“Sorry.”
By this point she wouldn’t mind if the clouds gave birth; she just needed to recalibrate her vision and finish what she started. Sure enough, a queueing body leaned slightly right and there he was, behind.
Despite half his face being obscured by a hygenic mask, the remaining half matched his attire – sharp, radiant, impressive. With two fluorescent azure whirpools for eyes, he glanced towards the entrance, then furrowed his brow. Transfixed, her thoughts sank deeper into his eyes as their circular currents picked up speed. Could he be a doctor on his lunch break? She thought she could make out an NHS lanyard on his ne-
“HELLO.”
This time it was the store’s security guard who broke her spell and ushered her inside. She took up his offer reluctantly, whilst scrambling to try and remember how many queuers were between her and her Key Worker. Seven, eight maybe?
She had to bide her time in that case, and began to saunter, not suspiciously at all, between the two closest isles to the store entrance, holding an empty basket and peering into the ether for a sign of him. One after another, customers entered and dispersed. Her airway tightened and tiny daggers stabbed at her stomach with every entering customer. Where is he? Surely there weren’t that many people between us?
Losing hope, she slowly turned to face the contents of the isle she found herself in and became resigned to the task at hand. Several items and empty isles later, she trudged over to a robot overlord and began scanning her Ready Meals. Did he leave the queue? Maybe he was called back into A&E? A couple of her tangerines rolled out of their plastic enclosure and onto the parquet below, where they nestled beside a shiny, black leather boot…
“I’ll get those for you.”
Those tiny daggers had perforated her stomach and were now rummaging around.
She shot him a meek smile. “Thank you.”
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“You just have…” she retorted smugly.
“I’m sorry what?” Her joke didn’t land.
“Nothing, go ahead…”
He cleared his throat, then blurted out a handful of words which caused her to visibly wince in repulsion.
“Have you heard of David Icke?”
Time slowed right down to Neo-bullet-dodging levels as she blinked very deliberately and focused on him, staggering back in the process and relying on an adjacent robot overlord for support. The whirpools were not whirpools after all; they were odious black holes, devoid of all intelligent matter. If only I had paid more attention in the queue! His lanyard was indeed in NHS turquoise blue, but along its length read in bold, upper case white letters the words ‘REAL EYES REALIZE REAL LIES’.
“Unidentified item in bagging area” screamed a robot overlord, as she lurched out of the store into the lashing rain, shopping bag and heart empty.
A Series Of Pointless Conversations 