Was checking myself out at my local Coles, when a tall young man, wide-eyed, with curls escaping under his cap, stood outside the checkout area in my line of vision, awaiting my acknowledgment. He patiently watched unitl he knew I'd sensed him in my periperal vision. I looked up to meet his enquiring gaze, wondering. Ex-student? One of my kids' friends? Hard to tell in our masks. He reminded me of a neighbourhood boy who'd now be about the same age.
'I notice colours,' he told me.
'Okay,' I responded, bit quizzically, continuing with my scanning and packing.
'I noticed your colourful jacket!' A proclamation.
'I'll take that as a compliment,' I said, scanning a block of cheese. My big raincoat was indeed colourful with its swirling pastels.
'Please do,' he said, nodding politely before walking away.
Some minutes later, he returned to where I was finishing my packing.
'Goodbye,' he said earnestly, another nod as he left.
'Bye,' I called after him, smiling under my mask.
It was curious and diverting, but no problem. Not according to the shop assistant supervising the self-checkout. Apparently, with just a few baskets to clear and registers to routinely sterilise, she had time to be extra-mindful of customer safety. She power-walked over to me.
'Don't go until he leaves the store,' she ordered, eyes alert watching his back.
I glanced over. He seemed to be exiting in an unremarkable fashion.
'You can't be too careful,' she added.
'Sorry? Does he have a reputation? Should I be alarmed?' He'd seemed harmless, if not delightful.
'No, but you never know.'
'Don't worry, I'm tough,' I said. 'I used to be a secondary teacher. I can handle it.' I raised an arm as if to show my muscled bicep, hidden beneath my coat sleeve. Don't think my sense of humour made it out from under my mask.
'Just go straight to your car,' she advised, still checking the entrance.
A middle-aged customer bustled over with her shopping bags to share her thoughts.
'Remember that man who murdered a woman in Brunswick?' Her eyes were wary under raised eyebrows. 'He used to shop here. Every week he'd come here to buy his Benson & Hedges Red.'
'Did you tell the police?' I asked. 'It could have been a vital clue.' I was gathering my bags to leave.
Both women eyed me icily before shifting position to close me out of their gossip.
I left without calamity and haven't since spotted the man who noticed colours and brightened my day.
