Too many times have I returned to the corner shop.
To flirt with pints of chocolate chip ice cream.
And overpay for social interaction.
Today is no different. Today is the same, in fact.
Monotony, ritual, and habit. What is the difference?
In the park on the walk over, children go up and down the slides.
Their parents scroll.
And birds provide the white noise that saves us from quiet.
The bell rings. I’m greeted by Miranda.
She’s worked here for as long as I’ve been in the neighborhood.
As long as anybody has. Longer.
She doesn’t look at the register when she punches in the price of my pint.
Instead, she tells me a joke she’s told me a thousand times.
Her eyes sparkle like she’s telling it for the first time.
I chuckle instead of laugh.
What else is there to do when you know the end of the story?
Monotony: the unseen grooves in my linoleum.
Ritual: afternoon dessert.
Habit: clean teeth despite the abuse of cream.