The Bruise

Words by JMD. Image generated with AI, curated by JMD.

Clint entered the produce aisle of the imaginatively titled “Neighborhood Co-Op” grocery store. It cost more by a lot, was filled with unknown and intensely bland cereals that had dubious health claims, and was clearly laid out by community members who were self-taught in retail space planning. But he believed, somehow, somewhere, he was making a positive societal difference by shopping here.

The extra harsh LED lighting bounced into his face as he lifted an heirloom beefsteak for inspection. Apparently, some well-meaning, earth-loving, forty-something thought it belonged directly above the tomatoes.

“Hey Clint.”

Steve’s relaxed but energetic voice felt like the kind you’d hear in a room with the words “fraternal order” above the door. Steve had switched careers to real estate recently, a step up from selling used cars.

“Did you see that listing I sent you? I think that place is so you.”
“Yeah. It’s awesome. $1.1 million though…. Must be nice for those who can do that.” 
“You gotta get you a boyfriend. It would be easy with two incomes.”
“True. If there were two of us, making my salary, it would be doable.”
“Look at me, giving you shit for being single. I’m an ass. It’s not like your goal is to die alone.”

Clint looked at the tomato in his hand which he had intended to purchase. He didn’t recall seeing that bruise before.