Early morning at The Co-operative Food Store. A woman is mopping the floor. A man in a motorbike helmet buys a meal deal and a newspaper. I head for the cash machine at the back of the shop. In the last few years as things have become more and more about the cashless society I carry cash. The feel of paper between my fingers. Christmas songs playing on a loop. I pick up milk and flowers for my mother. At the till I exchange a few customary words about the weather.

stopped mid sentence
a deathless face
in the cashier’s glasses

Paul Conneally
December 2019