Two Beeps

The milk, cold and sweating,

slipped in my hand. Two beeps,

said the machine, impatient.

My face burned, a quick flare.

The woman behind me, her cart

full of things I couldn’t name,

let out a breath, a sigh so heavy

it pushed the air.

It caught me, right here,

in the throat, like a hook.

Just milk, I thought,

just a line, just a Tuesday.

But her sigh was a judgment

I couldn’t shake,

a weight on my shoulders, heavy

as every mistake.

And the cashier, a blank stare,

just waiting for me to move.