One Shots

I've Got Plenty To Be Thankful For

The grocery store, in the late afternoon, almost seemed abandoned within its echoey, empty halls and distant music playing like vinyl on a gramophone. Nevertheless, it was the only time of the day I could come in since school and work were taking up the majority of the day. The selves were mostly picked over and the workers were tired after a long day of work. Whenever I came in this late, I would thank them for their hard work, sometimes bringing a snack for them. They always appreciated it which gave me warmth in my heart. There's always room for some kindness in a day. However, tonight seemed a bit different. The night was cooler, around 42 degrees, so I had to put on my warmer trench coat with a fur interior to keep me comfortable. But other than the weather, a familiar old song played over the ominous radio that seemed almost of an imagination.

It was I've Got Plenty To Be Thankful For by Bing Crosby. His voice was so pure, almost as if he were right there in the store. I smiled, taking in the warmth of his voice, though he was long passed, and tapped my feet on the ground as I walked through the isles. And, I sang. (Listen to the first bit of the audio here):

"I haven't got a great big yacht,
To sail from shore to shore,
Still, I've got plenty to be thankful for."

Sliding to the deli counter from a nearby isle, I did a small Fred Astaire tap dance, reminiscing in the sounds of the shoes on the tile. Ending in a pose on my knees, I earned a few concerned looks from the deli man and the one other guy at the deli counter. Standing up, I wiped my face of sweat and came to the counter.

"Sorry about that, I love that song," I confessed.

The deli man chuckled, grabbing something on a shelf behind him. "Only you would like that, y/n."

I puffed out my cheeks, sticking out my tongue to him. "Well, I'm sorry! I'm an old soul and it's around Thanksgiving too. I've got to get into the spirit, Hank." I exclaimed. "Oh! And about Thanksgiving, I came to order my turkey."

Hank came to face me, grabbing the order sheet. "Awesome! How big?"

"Well, it's only gonna be me and a couple of friends, so maybe 18lbs will be nice. Hopefully, they don't bail on me this year."

He nodded, writing it down then putting it on the computer. While he did that, I took notice of the other guy at the counter next to me. He was a little taller than me, had long brown hair tied back and under a red stretchy headband with sunglasses perched atop it, and had glimmering grey eyes that seemed as endless as the ocean. But those eyes stared at me with curiosity. So, I stuck out my hand toward him.

"Hello! I'm y/n! What's your name?"

His gaze unlocked and he raised his hand, shaking it with mine. "I'm Rody." He said, almost having a tint of red across his cheeks. Yet, his voice was smooth and controlled.

"It's nice to meet you, Rody. Say, are you new around here? I don't seem to have seen you here before." I asked, releasing his hand and leaning on the glass of the deli display.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I just moved here from a small country called Otheon with my little siblings. It's kind of a change in pace for us, but we're glad to finally be here in America. It's been a dream of ours." He smiled.

He's got a cute smile, I noted. "Well, we're glad to have you here. Welcome to Boston! There's a bunch of our country's history in this city, so check out some museums and historical locations when you can. They're beautiful." I said with a bright grin, earning a sly chuckle from him. We continued to chat for a while, getting to know each other more. He was a very nice and interesting person. Plus, it was the first time I had ever heard of the small country Otheon. I had no idea it was a French colony that won its independence back in the 50s. But the more you know, I guess.