Frozen in Time

I had a slurpee yesterday. We walked into a 7-Eleven in the city and it was like we took a step into the suburbs of 10 years ago. Everything sold there is preserved, packaged and either disturbingly salty or sickeningly sweet. Customers are young, defiant types who are fiercely eager to eat below par food, and the cashiers are tired.

But I could not just fill up my small sunkist orange slurpee and slurp it mindlessly while it froze my brain and my thoughts like I used to when I was young.

7-Eleven reminds me of suburban boredom. I can remember aimless summer days in which the slurpee was the highlight. But mostly it reminds me of a friend who I had in highschool, we used to get slurpees more times than I would like to admit. We always got the large ones and then perched them in her car’s small drink holders hoping for the best.

I do not speak to my slurpee friend anymore. She stopped returning my phone calls about 5 years ago and I don’t really know why. Maybe she is off doing something great as I get towards the bottom of my frothy treat and try to use that vestigial spoon on the end of the straw, what a great idea that is, too bad it doesn’t really work.

And when that last bit of slushy goodness danced, swished and evaded me in the cup I did not chase after it, because sometimes, you just have to let things go.