Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


May 19th 2017 in Microfiction

He stared at her (shyly, intermittently) as she rang up his order. She was surprisingly elegant, her hands moving seamlessly from item to scanner to bag (in a kind of retail ballet). “$54.62,” she said, smiling, and he blushed (fumbling to put his card in the machine). “You make it all look so easy,” he said, pressing buttons. “Well, I’ve been doing this a long time,” she said happily. “You think you’ll never get it and, one day, you wake up and it’s there.” “I hope so,” he said, discreetly writing his number on the receipt and handing it back to her. “Some days, I think I barely pass, y’know?” “You pass,” she said (enjoying her turn to blush). “Very convincingly human.” She folded the paper and slipped it into her back pocket, turning quickly to her next customer.

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