The collection of items in her hands falls in front of the cashier in a tumble of plastic that crinkles when it hits the hard surface. The boy behind the counter wears a blue baseball cap backwards, and is swallowed in a large yellow sweatshirt. She wears baggy clothes too, but it isn’t cool in the same way the cashier dresses. He looks ready to be photographed in magazines, and she looks like her clothes aren't her own. He chomps loudly on a piece of gum, and each time he pops a bubble, her jaw twitches. She tries to ignore the sound and motions to the stands behind him. He points to the cheapest pack. He doesn’t even turn around, one hand sliding across a brightly colored screen and the other grabbing blindly behind him. She stuffs her hands into the pocket of her cargo pants, and when she pulls them out, her nails are black and broken, her wallet matching the tips of her fingers. The beep of the scanner makes her twitch, and she swears she only has, at most, five things, but the sound keeps playing in her head relentlessly. Beep, beep, beep.