Pizza Dough and Book Dust

Chapter One

"What do you mean I can't return it?" the woman before me snaps. She has these large dark bug eyes that grow even larger and larger every time she yells. Her black bob shakes around her face as she trembles. "I finished the book and the plot was garbage!" 

I flinch. It's one of my favorite books. (I couldn't possibly have a favorite. There are far too many to choose from.) The lady in front of me slams the thick volume on the counter. I take a deep sigh. There are only fifteen minutes till closing. "I'm sorry ma'am, but as you can see from this sign," I point at the NO RETURNS sign with pink lettering behind me. "We do not take returns. Especially if you read the whole book." I tell her, trying desperately to maintain my pretty customer service smile. My mother says my real smile looks pained. I try to have a nice toothy smile for the customers.

She scoffs, "I would like to speak to whoever is in charge." 

I try. And I mean really try not to smirk. I swear. My facial muscles strain as my evil little smirk stays hidden. "I'm the owner of this establishment, ma'am," I tell the angry woman with a straight face.

"Well," she exasperates, "you have just lost a customer." She swishes her hair as she flounces out of my store. I flinch as she slams the door behind her, causing the large windows to quake. I don't like losing customers. But I can say good riddance to someone who thinks that Emma by Jane Austen is garbage. 

I look at the clock on my phone, one minute till closing. I walk around the counter and walk over to the door. I flip the sign on the door, telling the world I'm closed. I turn around and start to search my store for any stragglers. Once, I didn't check if anyone was hidden in the piles and piles of books in my store and I almost locked an elderly woman in. It was rather embarrassing, so now I always explore every aisle. 

After sweeping the store and finding no sign of human life, I empty my till. It wasn't a bad day, I've certainly had worse. Finally, after a few boring chores, I punch in the code for the security system that locks the exterior doors. The front door squeaks as I close it shut and my keys rattle as I lock the door. 

I walk over to my soft pink bike that stands against the bike rack next to my shop. The lock that guards my bike doesn't actually work, it's too rusted. But, I still wrap it around and try my best to make it look locked. Don't get me wrong, I'm not irresponsible, I can see my bike through where I stand when checking customers out. 

I bike home. It's two blocks away and the whole ride there is quite peaceful. The sun is setting and the windows of the buildings that tower above me mirror the soft orange. I hum as I pedal along the street, the window blowing my hair around that wasn't protected by my helmet. I'm going to have helmet hair once I get home. 

I make my final turn and push on my brake as I arrive at my home. I pop up the curb and dismount the bike. I almost drop my keys as I rummage around my purse for them and push them into the lock of the front door of the apartment lobby. 

Once inside, I leave my bike with another bike in the lobby underneath a collection of posters for odd jobs and new businesses. I stare at one in the top right corner, that's barely visible as new posters have been added to the board. But you can still make out in the pretty pink lettering

Cupid's Ink

I smile at it. I can't believe that I hung up that poster over a year ago. 

As I walk into my apartment on the third floor, the scent of burnt food assaults my nose. "Oh my god!" I cough, waving my hand around my face as I close the front door. "What is that?" 

My roommate, Matlida, is standing by the stove, frantically trying to stop whatever she was cooking to stop turning into a fiery inferno. "Thank goodness you're home, Eve!"