"Okay, that's..." the cashier paused, typing on the cash register. "Fifty-two dollars. Cash or credit?"
I dug into my purse. "Credit."
I paid, slung my shopping bag over my shoulder, and headed for the door.
I heard a clink behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, thinking something might have fallen out of my purse.
Someone bumped into me. I staggered backwards, waving my arms around, and found myself on my bottom in front of every customer and staff member in Food Lion.
"You okay?" someone asked.
At first I couldn't understand them. They had a thick accent. A German one, maybe Danish.
"You okay?" they repeated.
I looked up into their face, squinting against the bright, florescent ceiling lights. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a little embarrassed."
They crouched down and picked up my purse. Now I could see their face.
They were a young man, about my age: maybe twenty to twenty-two. He had a strong jaw and nose, with jet black hair and brown eyes. He looked strong.
I found myself thinking he was pretty good-looking. My face flushed.
He handed me my purse, along with my credit card, which I guess had fallen out. "Sorry about that. All this noise makes it hard to watch where you are going." He grinned and helped me to my feet. "Though if not watching where I'm going makes me bump into pretty things like yourself, I think the noise is okay. As long as you are not hurt, Miss...?"
"Kandinsky," I said. "Sylvia Kandinsky. And you are?"
"Hans Jørgensen. You are not hurt, yes?"
"I'm not hurt. Thanks for asking. Um...I really need to go now, Mr. Jørgensen."
He nodded and walked over to a fruit display. I watched him for a moment, then hurried out of the door.
I heard footsteps hurrying after me. Someone grabbed my shoulder. I turned.
"Hey, Jason," I said when I saw who it was. "What's up?"
"Hi, Sylvia. Hey, who was that guy you were just talking to?"
"His name's Hans. Hans Jørgensen," I said.
"Is he your boyfriend?"
I sighed. "Two things, Jason. Number one: I just met him, and I'm probably never going to see him again. So no, he's not my boyfriend. Number two: you and I broke up three years ago. Okay? So stop poking your nose into my love life. We're just friends. And number three," I continued, heading to my car, "aren't you supposed to be working on a college assignment?"
"That was more than two things!" Jason called after me.
I climbed into my car, shut the door, and turned on the radio. Classical music filled the air. I quickly changed the station. I hate classical music.
I started up the car and backed out of the parking space. As I drove away, I glanced into the rear-view mirror.
Jason was standing in front of Food Lion, his head down. His brown hair was hanging into his face, and he was slouching dejectedly.
I felt a pang. Even though we broke up, it wasn't because I didn't like him. It was because it wasn't working. Besides, if he really loved me, what was that deal with Kitka?
Yeah, it was definitely better if we went our own separate ways.