The saleswoman in the delicatessen department of Supermarket

Art by Flechemuller

She appeared radiant in the clear plastic strip curtain, radiant and blooming, her eyes shining as she approached the counter. Her arms laden with the best charcuterie on the shelf, her lips slightly puffed out, her dark eyes seemed to penetrate me to the core. I’d long since spotted the location of this supermarket on a map, and took advantage of the vacations to go there.

Every vacation, I’d choose a supermarket at random and book a room in a cheap hotel nearby.

Often, when the saleswoman was attractive, like this one, I’d come back on several occasions, buying a few slices of sausage here, a little ham there, lard, sausages, pork cheek, pig’s trotters… everything, everything was good to admire, under the neon lights, the pink and sometimes slightly shiny face of my favorite saleswoman.

I’d go back to my hotel room with my little bag, and there, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Renato Carosone on my tape recorder, I’d see the salesgirl’s face again, imagining her first name – Alice? Yvette? Susie? I was blindly grabbing slices of mortadella, which I gobbled down slowly, they must last all night, the Supermarket didn’t reopen until 9:30.