People watching in parkinglots.

Stuck in the car listening to songs i hate. watching people passsearching for a good song, switching stations every few seconds. The cart pusher is a red head with a flaming curly afro stopping to look at me every few seconds to see if i'm watching him. The car fills up with my carbon dioxide, i open the window to a car pulling up. The man getting out is older with snow white hair and slightly wrinkled face. i'd say late fifties maybe older. his dark blue shirt polo brings out he ice blue in his eyes making his white hair almost florescent. He backs the car out of the space and drives away looking as though he's made a mistake as if this wasn't where he planned to go.

Another car pulls up, a crisp dark shade of sky blue. I didn't catch his face, but his voice sounded raspy almost tired. A child in the seat next to him saying something i couldn't quite make out. I pull my hair back in a pony tail catching my reflection in the side view mirror noticing my eyes are extra green today. The cart pusher watches me while i start to sing a stupid shallow pop song. It seems like the songs you hate the most are the ones you know all the words too. I see my mother walking out of the store and so does the cart pusher.

"Finally" i think to myself.

My mother loads everything into the car and gets in, the door making a painful wrenching noise. I look back in the mirror noticing the cart pusher almost looks sad as she backs the car out of the space and pulls out of the parking lot.