Gina
“Earth to Gina!” I look up and see Leonard, my boss, staring at me with a furrowed brow. In his hand is a tagging g*n. “I was starting to get worried. Everything okay?”
I nod, realizing I’ve been standing there, seemingly in a trance—and the customers have gotten antsy. The line is now five people deep. Their light chatter rings in my ears.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head. I can feel the blood draining from my face. I"d been thinking about the argument with my father, about all the things I should have said, and more so, the things I shouldn’t have. But that isn’t all. I’d also given considerable thought to something I’d just read in one of the gossip tabloids that line the register. I often spend the time between customers imagining myself one day being in them, seeing my face on
