Corner Market
“I don’t know nuthin’ about them melons.” Smurfy was downright indignant being questioned about the stolen fruit.
“Well, young man, Mr. Travis says he saw you eyeing them yesterday afternoon and when he finished helping a customer, both you and the melons were gone.”
Smurfy didn’t like the cop or Mr. Travis. “I didn’t take nuthin’.”
“Well, were you here yesterday afternoon?”
“I sometimes come by on my way home from school.”
Officer Marcom glanced over to the cash register and spoke loud enough for Mr. Travis to hear, “Was the fruit out there in the same spot as today?”
Mr. Travis nodded affirmatively while bagging some groceries for an elderly woman. Everyone looked out the large, front window to the sidewalk fruit stand where the cop was pointing. In that instant, a woman walked by, surreptitiously grabbed a melon, placed it in her baby stroller, and continued without slowing or looking around.
The four inside stopped frozen in disbelief.
Then, Mr. Travis and the cop ran out the door and disappeared in pursuit of the baby-stroller melon thief.
Smurfy rolled his eyes and asked the woman at the register if she needed help carrying her groceries.
“Thank you, but I can manage.” She took a few steps toward the rear exit and paused, “Things used to be better around here. We need a strong president, like Ike.”
Smurfy lowered his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
She exited through the back leaving him alone in the corner grocery store. Should he be there by himself or was it OK to leave? The voices of Officer Marcom and Mr. Travis squabbling with a woman were far enough away that he decided to head home before his mom started asking why he was late.
While checking traffic and crossing the street, Smurfy placed both hands in his coat pockets, warming them against the October chill. He glanced at the commotion a few stores away and contemplated the adult who couldn’t afford a melon. As his fingers caressed the smooth and fuzzy, fresh peaches, he told himself he’d always have money when he was older. But for now, he was running out of stores he could walk by without being questioned.
by George Alger
WANT MORE?
Subscribe to LIMINAL STORIES (free) for more short stories and flash fiction.