HEY! Tzfira!
He yells it across the crowded store and everything goes quiet.
Almost.
Beep…beep…beep.
One cashier is still working.
The quiet gets to her and she looks up in surprise.
Slowly, she stands and lowers her head.
Two women continue their conversation.
Hearing English during these moments of silence is making me cringe and I try to focus.
The bread machine goes on as a man in a long black jacket slices his loaf of bread, oblivious…or maybe not.
I try to remember. I try to stand at attention and feel. I try to imagine the pain and sorrow this country manages to live through every second of every day…but all I can think of is that they have no damn respect!
I just want to shake them and scream and flail my arms out as I let that burning desire to wish all that excruciating pain on each and every one of those people, who can’t even stand still for two minutes and show a little respect, pour out of the carefully scripted mantra I hold…
The idea of love and mutual understanding…of debating softly and disagreeing amiably….of living with people who think and feel differently…of never, ever, wishing anyone harm no matter how they act.
But I can’t.
I can’t respect them.
I can say it’s because they don’t respect me.
I can say it’s because they don’t let me live my life peacefully.
I can say many things.
But really…it’s because they can’t give two fucking minutes of their time to shutting up and letting me mourn.
So damn you stupid people in the grocery store…damn you.
Colloquially Speaking 