No Ordinary Scene
An old lady is stretched out in the supermarket alley. Underneath the green peppers and avocadoes. “Don’t move sweetie,” the large shop assistant says. “You’re alright sweetheart,” she soothes.
he old lady’s stockinged feet twitch. Her grey eyes roll backwards as the large woman cups her head and smoothes white strands of hair away from her lined face.
"It’s not what it looks like,” the shop assistant tells onlookers. “It’s not a stroke. She’s still moving.”
The old woman’s shopping trolley stands next to her. Her walking stick dangling from the handle rail. The bright yellow supermarket lights have turned her pale skin orange. She tries to speak but the shop assistant coos.
“Help is coming my love.”
A young blonde woman hovers next to me.
"I’m going to get some potatoes,” she says matter-of-factly. I turn and see her eyes are damp. She blinks and remains rooted to the spot.
“My mother is going to be okay isn’t she?” she asks before shuffling into the next aisle for some Jersey spuds.
The crowd disperses. New customers weave past, pretending not to notice. As if this is a perfectly ordinary scene at the supermarket.
The old woman gasps, utterly displaced. A blue crate lies next to her feet. It wasn’t there before she fell. I swear it moved on its own. But I don’t tell anyone that. No one would believe me anyway.
© Katie MacWhannell