Vending Machine

She stood in black yoga pants and a sweater, her blond head cocked to the side, a hand on the glass of the vending machine. Stephanie pressed the buttons, and the machine whirred. Something should have fallen, but did not.

Stephanie frowned, puckering her lips. She brought her hand back and hit the machine. Nothing happened.

She looked around for someone to help, but the only people available didn’t have the expertise. A couple fussed over a baby. Three women laughed. Two man-boys ogled her. She rolled her eyes.

Looking back at the machine, she knew she needed to bite the bullet. Reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out her wallet. Sorting through the change purse, she inserted one coin after another, then pushed the buttons.

The machine whirred again. Her first treat fell – the second now lodging in. She sighed, looked around once more for some help, then abandoned the cause. She grabbed her snack, and muttered “You’re welcome,” under her breath to the next person who came along.

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