Johnnys Summer
The man had hardly walked off before I started scanning the next customer's items. Some lettuce, some chicken, a few bottles of wine. My reaction to the wine was automatic. "ID?" I asked, looking up from the conveyor belt for the first time. The customer was a woman who couldn't be too much older than me, tan with blonde hair that only just came down to the bottom of her head. Something about her seemed familiar. "Johnny?" she asked, a hint of surprise and embarrassment in her voice....