There is something like hatred bubbling in your gullet as you stare into the eyes of a stranger. You keep your customer service smile firmly tacked on, moving xir items through the checkout, acting as normal as you can while rage courses through your system. It doesn’t make any sense- you don’t know this person, no matter how familiar the edge of xir smile seems to be. But something inside of you, something mean and angry is telling you watch closely,  the weight of a knife you can never remember holding like a phantom in your palms