Random Sequence

One of the workers behind the counter, a disheveled young woman, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties, has become accustomed to seeing us there. And since we always order the same thing...she can ring up our order without my having to say a word.... "Right" is all I have to say. There's one odd thing about this relationship, though. I sometimes see this woman walking down the main street of our Jersey City neighborhood, out of uniform.

She will not make eye contact or acknowledge me in any way.

It's as if we are perfect strangers outside of the rigidly assigned roles of restaurant customer and cashier.
--from "Perfect Strangers" (by me), originally published in Hudson Current