Sorry Sorry

The queue moves slower than a snail. The youngster in front of me fidgets and jumps from one foot to the other and I’d like to tell him something about respecting my personal space but one doesn’t make a fuss at the post office.

The queue shuffles forward. The youngster takes a half-step back and steps on my foot. ‘Sorry,’ I mumble. He doesn’t even turn around to apologise. It’s disgraceful. When the queue moves again, I wait, painfully aware of the glaring that goes on behind my back.

I turn and mumble sorry. There are understanding nods. The relief.

***

Story 18 of 31 for Story A Day May.

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8 thoughts on “Sorry Sorry

  1. It’s also frequently an ingrained “woman thing”–we apologize, feel guilty for Everything and Anything! A friend once joked, “oh, so it was YOU on the grassy hill in Dallas that day”. (No disrespect intended re the assassination of our President).

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