Pebbles: A Collection of Short Stories

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Have you ever stared at the shirts in your closet, utterly incapable of deciding? Rationally I knew, or at least thought I knew, that my choice of a top would not change anything. The day would progress as intended, but my mind stalled on choosing a shirt. I like to think it was a defense mechanism. If my mind hadn't dwelled on something as arbitrary as my choice of a blouse, I would have surely spiraled into a whirl of self-doubt because it was the day, interview day. Today was the day that I had a chance to pull myself from the ranks of waitresses and leap into the world of marketing. But first, I had to pick the right shirt.

The sound of Super Mario collecting a coin jarred me back from my thoughts and to my room. I clamored for my phone, assuming it was some well-wish from a friend, but the text name blared up as Unknown. My heart sunk as I flicked open my phone, thinking it was an interview cancellation. They probably had already hired someone or realized that I had no business even interviewing for the role.

Instead, all it said was, wear a sweater and pack the red blouse in your purse.

I looked around the room. The message felt off. Who was watching me? Who could see both my indecision and my bra? My eyes darted the room. The shades were still drawn. Was it someone inside the apartment?

"Cindy?" I called into the hall to my roommate.

"What?" She yelled back from the kitchen.

"Are you texting me?"

"Why would I text you? You are ten feet away."

Fair point, but it did nothing to settle my nerves. Mario collected another coin, and I was reluctant to check my phone.

"I'm not a stalker. I have a keen stake in your day today. Wear a sweater and pack the red blouse!"

"Who are you?" I texted back.

"That would make you even more nervous. Now, wear the sweater and pack the red blouse! And hurry before you miss the bus!"

I sighed with reluctance, but it was a decision, and it unfroze me from my wavering. I threw on a cream sweater, tossed my red blouse in my purse, and headed to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee. The mystery life coach was right. The clock was already at 8:36 am; I had to hurry to the bus stop. I filled up my travel mug with coffee, said good-bye to Cindy, and shot down the stairs.

I had barely made it to the stop in time, and when I climbed aboard, all but one seat was full. I made my way to it and plopped down. It was a good sign that I got the last seat, right? As the bus took off, I realized the seat in front of me had its window open. Generally, in the warmth of the late Spring, it would be fine, but this early in the morning, the sun had not yet warmed the day, and the wind that poured in was damp and cold. I felt those around me huddle into themselves, regretting that they had dressed for the midday heat and not the chill of the morning.

"I'm sorry, all. The window seems to be stuck," a sharp-dressed man in a business suit sheepishly shrugged.

I watched as people around me continued to shiver, but I was comfortable. The cool breeze was refreshing when paired with my sweater's warmth, which I was wearing because of a clairvoyant texter.

"Who are you? How did you know the bus would be cold?" Once I hit send, my eyes darted around the bus looking for anyone that was triggered to look at their phone, but no such luck.

"I told you, I have a vested interest. And, you're welcome." The anonymous friend shot back.

"Any chance your fortune-telling powers can tell me the lottery numbers?" I typed back, smiling to myself.

"Very funny. Now, hold on tight!"

But I didn't have enough time to understand. The bus driver had been distracted and had to drive his foot into the break to make it into the next bus stop. Everyone violently lurched forward at the unexpected movement. My coffee didn't stand a chance as I smashed into the seatback in front of me, causing the hot liquid to spill down my top. I let out an audible grunt of frustration as Mario collected another coin, but I was too discombobulated to check it.

I descended the bus steps to the sidewalk and angrily tossed my now-empty travel mug into the trash. I looked down at my ruined sweater as the pungent smell of coffee engulfed me. Another text prevented me from succumbing to a full-on meltdown.

"Stay calm." The earlier text directed. "There is a coffee shop across the street. Order a coffee, change into your blouse, and have a great interview!"

"WHO ARE YOU?"

"I told you, I am someone with a vested interest!"

I didn't have enough time to text-fight with a know-it-all-stranger. I hurried across the street to the lobby café and asked for the bathroom key at the same time I ordered. I would never have noticed the tiny place if not for my knight-in-shining-cellphone. I pulled off my sweater and changed into the red blouse before setting my attention to the coffee stain.

"Throw out the sweater. It's a lost cause and will only make you smell like stale coffee in your interview... not worth it," splashed across my screen.

I grumbled to myself but did like the text directed and tossed the sweater in the trash.

"Good luck; you've got this!" The text glowed from my screen before I tucked my phone in my purse.

I made my way to the reception desk of The Beaumont Agency and checked in for my interview.

"I love your blouse," the receptionist smiled at me as she typed away. "I never think to wear red, but it will certainly help you stand out today! Who needs another black and white outfit?" She let out a tiny laugh as she spoke. "I've let Ms. Green know you are here."

I turned to find three other applicants, all wearing black pants with white blouses as though it were an interview uniform, and smiled to myself as I settled into my seat to wait.

"Casey Turner?" A confident voice called into the waiting room.

"That's me," I smiled as I stood and grasped her hand for a shake.

"Welcome, I'm Tiffany Green. A pleasure to meet you," despite her sureness, she had a friendly smile. "I love your top," she added.

The small compliment reinforced my resolve. I was the red blouse in the sea of white tops. I've got this. The interview flowed like an easy conversation. We meandered through my college courses and my work at a local café.

"Well," Ms. Green smiled as she stood, "you have already achieved the most important part of working here." A twinkle landed in her eyes, "you've found Tally's café. Best coffee in four-blocks, but people always seem to overlook it."

"Honestly, it was out of necessity. I spilled my coffee down the front of me from a severe bus lurch. Luckily, I packed a backup shirt in my purse."

"You come prepared," she nodded. As we parted, she added a reassuring, "we'll be in touch, Casey."

I stepped back out into the Spring sun, feeling confident. I had been prepared, and I had crushed the interview. As if on cue, Mario collected a coin.

"Congrats! We did it!"

"I don't know yet, but it felt like a solid interview."

"Oh, we got the job."

"We?"

"How do you think I know so much about you? Now, let's talk men."

"Wait, we? As in, me?"

"Oh, hello, beautiful."

"I have so many questions..."