Day in the Life of ExedricThe wall of vibrant boxes assaults the full scope of my half-awake vision.

―100% Natural
―Doctors’ Top Choice
―Simply the Best
―Satisfaction Guaranteed

Countless little billboards begging for my trust—my crinkled bills. The folded up ones and fives I was aimlessly picking at in my hoodie pocket were likely handled by hundreds of thousands of millions of people. Kids, teens, adults, senior citizens. Me. Then the cashier at this drugstore.

My hand brushed against theirs as I handed them the box I had no conscious judgment of picking out. My eyes drifted shut the entire time they scanned the thing, or I should say, failed to a few times before relenting and punching in its code with the register’s clacky mechanical keyboard.

They blurted the price in a voice so unexpectedly crisp and chipper that I jolted awake.

I handed them two fives and a one. They handed me back the one before retrieving the rest of my change from the register; four pennies and a nickel. I asked them to keep it, choking down my embarrassment from touching their hand earlier to not processing the price they’d given me and opting to guess instead of ask them to repeat it.

I guess I could’ve looked at the register monitor. Fuck.