The Stranger

Her accent grated the words. She smiled, but it only made her look stupider. Do I sound like that? I understood what she wanted to say, and I understood the bored-looking woman at the register, but it’s always easier to get it when they’re not talking directly to you.

I bet she imagined foreign worlds, exotic flashes like movie trailers, but now she was in it. Deep. Treading, and realizing that even buying a sandwich could be daunting. I pointed to the electronic read-out next to the register. That was my trick when I didn’t understand how much money they’d asked for. I could have just told her in English, but I don’t want to be the foreigners talking to each other in their language.

We left the supermarket and passed a group of young guys. I avoided gazes, though back home I’d look them in the eyes. One guy approached us. He asked something, probably for a cigarette or a light, but neither of us understood.

He didn’t care that we both shook our heads “no.” He kept talking, walking next to us. I felt stripped. Vulnerable. I wanted to shove him. Drive elbows into his face. We kept walking until he lost interest and went back to his friends.