A smile flitted across my face. It lingered for a while before proceeding to other business. I mused on the nature of happiness for a while before dismissing it as fickle – must like my own facial expressions. Then I wondered why and how an assortment of muscle movements could manifest and create happiness. And if a smile was so effective at this job, why could the same not be said for tautened elbow skin or a bent little finger? People don’t make sense.

My supervisor walks past my checkout and fires a cursory glance at me accompanied by a smile denoting recognition. She doesn’t know what my name is. I flex my elbow in greeting. She cocks an eyebrow – confusion. People don’t understand me. Sometimes I wonder if I do. What if all this time I’ve been getting myself all wrong. I imagine the situation

–

My conscience walks up to me. Things aren’t working out, I just feel you don’t know me. I think we should try a trial separation.

Don’t go! I beg. It goes. I go limp. Oh well.

A customer takes a pin made of pure unwanted attention to my blissful bubble of dreams. My language becomes flowery and over dramatic. I warmly greet them like an old friend. Welcome! Come in, sit by the fire, would you like something to drink? Can I help with your packing. They are not my friend. I know it, they know it and they respond – their reply heavily laden with false warmth. A sense of dreary joviality lazily flops over the conversation. They joke about how they only came in for a pint of milk. I could scarcely care less. I laugh politely. My laugh is like a bicycle pump for their ego. Endorsed by my laugh they are suddenly the world’s greatest stand up – the torpid, mundane shopping gags that I’ve heard a million times before rattle by like freight trains. A metaphor which only helps highlight how mass produced such jokes are. I profusely thank anonymous customer number 482 for his custom and take his money with a smile made of lies. I quietly thank my muscles.