Rolling stomach. Body doubled. Words suppressed.
What was supposed to be an early-morning dash to the local Tom Thumb on the way to a volunteer event quickly turned into what could have been a messy disaster. I just needed my daily dose of caffeine, in its most convenient form, as I attempted the rushed breakfast of a young, single woman making admirable use of her weekend time. But what should have been a 3-minute errand was actually a testament to the literal thinking of the fresh check-out clerk. Thankfully I was the only person in line as my stomach relayed to me in no uncertain terms the message that there was no need or room for breakfast this morning. The churning that precedes vomiting needs no translation. As I approached the check-out empty handed, hunched over and scurrying, the confused clerk smiled meekly, raising her brow in question.
“I am about to throw up. I need a bag-now!”
Automatically and without hesitation, “Will that be paper or plastic?”