Sometimes I feel like a spy.

At the can and bottle return at Fred Meyers, there was a little old Mexican man with a cart full of plastic ArrowHead watter bottles, and Monster energy drinks. Rythmically he put each one into the bottle return, carefully reaching his hand into the cart because there was a small swarm of bees darting in and out of the sugary cans.


A girl walked up with brown paper bags that said "RAM" on the side in red ink. She was pale, with dark hair, and maybe 20 years old. She had an Ugly Betty feel about her. Her bright colored layers, and knock-off brand Uggs that were the same color as her pants, made you want to help her. Her hair was long, to the middle of her back. She looked like she could be beautiful, but she wasn't brave enough to try.


She stood by the return with her bags, and looked around. Her mouth moved as she said something to the Old Man, and he replyed to her with few words and a shrug. She walked up to the call button, and hesitated before pressing it. The red light came on and she stepped back. One of her bags slipped, and the bottles spilled out onto the ground. She hurried to pick them all up, and turned slightly pink.


A clean shaven, yet dirty looking man on a mountain bike road up next to her. They spoke for a moment, then, for a reason I have no idea of, she gave him all but one of her bags. They exchanged a few more words, then smiles, and the girl walked off towards the bus stop, with a single bag of empty plastic water bottles. The Biker Man then spoke to the Old Man, and seemingly convinced him to hand over the rest of his bottles and cans. The Old Man shrugged again, printed of his ticket and walked in side to get his money. The Biker Man seemed rather smug to me.


He then pressed the call button a few more times. After two minutes, a blond Surfer Boy worker walked by. Biker Man spoke to him, but Surfer Boy shook his head and walked off. Then another worker came out, but he appeared to be either off work, or on a break as he headed to his car. Biker Man kinda shook his head. Old Man then walked out of the store, holding his walet and a pack of cigarettes, looks like he had enough bottles. Shortly thenafter, a worker finally came to help poor Biker Man.

Mom also came back to the car, and we went home.

I still want to know why the girl gave him all of her bags but one, and left.