I Found Happiness (Frerard)

This is Frerard story was a class assignment that I like, and recived an A on.. The assignment was to create a short story with a conflict. Feedback would be lovely, as it helps improve my writing. Questions are also welcome. Enjoy! 

A thick layer of mist hung low in the air, blanketing itself over the suburb of Belleville. The bitter wind nipped at my raw face, pooling tears in my eyes. The streets possessed a vacant silence only disrupted by the rattle of bare branches brawling with the wind. I found the minimal racket soothing. I glanced up slowly, dark strands falling carelessly in my face, I didn't bother brushing them away as they hid myself from onlookers. Not that there were any, I was entirely alone as I trudged down the paved sidewalk. I hitched my guitar further up my back as I rounded a corner, leading me further towards the awaiting music store. Upon entering, the bell positioned on the door sounded, making my frazzled appearing manager aware of my presence, whose name I never really bothered with.

“Late.”  He grunted at me before returning to the stack of vinyls he was attending to. I shrugged and slid behind the counter, setting aside my instrument. Rummaging a still slightly frigid hand around I retrieved a flimsy tag reading “FRANK”.

I parted my lips to voice another complaint about the stupid tag, but the manager interjected; “Those guitars need dusting.” He aimed a finger in the general direction of the unsophisticated display of assorted Fenders and Gibsons. “I dusted them yesterday.” I grumbled before obeying reluctantly. I swept a rag lazily across the neck of Fender Stratocaster, making an extravagant show of my distaste for the task.  “We aren’t paying kids like you ten dollars an hour to idle around.” The manager scoffed as he retreated into the back room. I muttered a light string of profanity before tossing the rag aside with an eyeroll. “This is stupid-” My sentence was halted by the sound of the bell accompanied by the scrape of the ancient door. I pulled my focus to the figure standing upon the threshold, smiling so brightly I heaved a sigh in annoyance. “Hello.” I remarked darkly. The stranger’s lips turned further upwards as they returned the greeting with an exceeding level of enthusiasm. “Can I help you?” I asked more forcefully than intended; the stranger took a sweeping glance around the cramped little shop before taking a small step forward. His face caught better lighting, instantly illuminating his unique features. He continued to wear that slight smile, flashing his small white teeth; white enough to match his drained porcelain skin that complemented his raven shoulder length hair “Could you tell me where I could find Iron Maiden?” The question was proposed so politely I was thrown. “Uh, well dude you’re not gonna find them here. They’re in England.” I retorted wittily. The man gave a gentle feminine laugh, seemingly unfazed by my smart remark. My eyes followed as he led himself to the correct section of the store, sifting through arrangements of albums. “You like Iron Maiden?” He met my eyes for a moment, a smile always dancing upon his features. I observed him intently, tracing every detail of his face with my eyes, noticing insignificant quirks before replying. “Yeah Iron Maiden’s cool. The Misfits are the best though.” I stated casually, edging closer to him. “What’s your favorite album?” The stranger inquired as he skimmed over a CD case. “Walk Among Us, I can play that entire album on guitar.” I stated a bit smugly, my musical ability being one of the few things I was proud of. “I’d love to hear it.”

The man strode to the counter where he presented the Iron Maiden album he’d selected. I was a bit taken aback, the majority of people I boasted to, chose to ignore my self righteous comments. I floundered for words, “Yeah, sure.” I reach an unsteady hand to retrieve the CD. I rang it up and glanced up momentarily to catch a glimpse of the nameless man. It felt wrong to admire his looks, even within my own thoughts. He sifted his hand through a bowl of multicolored guitar picks, he sensed my gaze and met my eyes with a bright smile. I struggled to steady my speech as I announced the amount he owed. Upon receiving the correct amount and passing over his purchase he turned to exit, pausing for a moment.