- Caspian -
I watch awkwardly as the large woman rummages around in a faux-leather purse the color of dirty dishwater. Her arm, wrapped in the sleeve of a heavy fur coat, emerges clutching two crinkled and slightly damp $20 bills, which I cram into the cash register. I then wait patiently for the change to be dispensed into my palm.
"Thank you, ma'am," I pronounce, dropping the money and receipt into the woman's meaty hand. She wraps her fingers around it, grabs her bag of groceries, and waddles away, leaving a cloud of pepperminty perfume in her wake.
As soon as the blast of cold air signals her having left the store, I bend down and inhale sharply, pivoting away from the scent. It is like shoving peppermints up your nostrils, or drowning in mouthwash. I wave the air away from my face and look down to the end of my checkout lane. No one is waiting. It doesn't look like anyone is at any of the other lanes, aside from a few scattered employees, lingering or working. Things here are unusually this silent.
As soon as I turn around, Necita is there, a crate of cans filling the space between us. "Stock these," she purrs in her heavy Spanish accent. I blink begrudgingly as I take the weight into my arms and made my way toward the canned foods aisle.
My name is Cas. I'm 17. I have a dog and a mother and no girlfriend. I spend my Saturdays and Sundays working in the Burgess Stop n' Save, the only grocery store within 45 miles of this sleepy Ontario town. There are gas stations and things, but the Stop n' Save sees every one of the town's inhabitants at least once a month. It is large, somewhere in between a Harris Teeter and a Kroger in size, and is vaguely busy most of the time. It is boring, despite the fact that I know all of the people who come in regularly. Nothing exciting ever happens here, but isn't that what we all crave? Excitement, adventure, new faces? It's funny how we all spend so much time wanting things that could be attainable if we just bothered to reach for them. This thought crosses my mind as I walk past a man staring blankly up at a box of macaroni on the top shelf, as if the ability to move his arms has left him.
I take a detour through the cleaning aisle, breathing in the scents of all the smelly clean things, and take a few more heavy steps before I end up on the next aisle. I slide the heavy crate onto an empty shelf, exhaling with relief as the weight leaves my arms. I have to let them relax for a bit before the numbness goes away. My eyes wander down the aisle.
There is a girl.
She has light blonde hair styled in a sort of overgrown pixie cut. A glittery black headband rests atop the sunlight-colored streaks. Her eyes are narrowed in concentration as she peruses the selection of canned tomatoes. She's wearing a purple scarf and a black coat, and I notice that she's standing on her tiptoes, as if preparing to take flight.
I have not seen her around here before.
As soon as I turn around, Necita is there, a crate of cans filling the space between us. "Stock these," she purrs in her heavy Spanish accent. I blink begrudgingly as I take the weight into my arms and made my way toward the canned foods aisle.
My name is Cas. I'm 17. I have a dog and a mother and no girlfriend. I spend my Saturdays and Sundays working in the Burgess Stop n' Save, the only grocery store within 45 miles of this sleepy Ontario town. There are gas stations and things, but the Stop n' Save sees every one of the town's inhabitants at least once a month. It is large, somewhere in between a Harris Teeter and a Kroger in size, and is vaguely busy most of the time. It is boring, despite the fact that I know all of the people who come in regularly. Nothing exciting ever happens here, but isn't that what we all crave? Excitement, adventure, new faces? It's funny how we all spend so much time wanting things that could be attainable if we just bothered to reach for them. This thought crosses my mind as I walk past a man staring blankly up at a box of macaroni on the top shelf, as if the ability to move his arms has left him.
I take a detour through the cleaning aisle, breathing in the scents of all the smelly clean things, and take a few more heavy steps before I end up on the next aisle. I slide the heavy crate onto an empty shelf, exhaling with relief as the weight leaves my arms. I have to let them relax for a bit before the numbness goes away. My eyes wander down the aisle.
There is a girl.
She has light blonde hair styled in a sort of overgrown pixie cut. A glittery black headband rests atop the sunlight-colored streaks. Her eyes are narrowed in concentration as she peruses the selection of canned tomatoes. She's wearing a purple scarf and a black coat, and I notice that she's standing on her tiptoes, as if preparing to take flight.
I have not seen her around here before.
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