DANGEROUS

Rain

New York City, the place where dreams are made into reality. 

Yeah, right. I wish.

 People make the city sound so fascinating. Well, I guess it is but it's not when you have a shitty job and your life is going nowhere. I work in a small crummy bookstore located in Manhattan. I never wanted to work here, even if I do love reading. The book store is ancient, old, cramped, and has that smell – the smell of old people. I have to admit, the place is neat, just not my cup of tea.  Anyways, we have several book genres ranging from American literature to science fiction. The many shelves are crammed with loads of books, some as tall as the ceiling or short and stumpy. This shop itself is quite… bizarre with so many styles mixed in together. Surprisingly, we get quite a few customers. Most are quite odd looking; I’ve never seen anyone normal walk into the shop.

So where did I want to work? I wanted to work at the record store across the street. It’s where all the young people go to hangout and drink coffee. I know, it probably doesn’t sound as interesting as the bookstore, but I like it. I’m so boring.

 I can't believe my dad couldn't hook me up with a better part time job, this sucks.

I was working alone this night, all by myself on an evening shift. I was just thankful that my manager wasn't around. I think he has a thing for me and he comes off as a creep. It was rather lonely, maybe even scary being alone in the old store. I sighed, tucking a strand of brown hair behind my ear and shoved a rickety metal cart through the storage doors. I wore a green long sleeved shirt, jeans, and loafers. My hair was at its natural state; wavy with dark brown curls, parted in the middle. A pair of thick rimmed reading glasses was resting on the edge of my nose. I can imagine that I probably looked extremely dorky. I didn't try to look good today because I didn't really care. I was being rather loud, shoving the books into their correct nooks according to the last name of the author. So many books had been misplaced. 

“Why can't people just put the book back where it was if they weren’t going to buy it in the first place?” I sighed. God.

Shoving a few books into their appropriate places, I jumped when I felt something cold and wet touch the top of my head. I looked up to see that the hole in the roof had yet to be fixed.

"Charles." I growled my manager’s name.

He was supposed to fix the leaks two months ago. I let go of my hold on the book case and strutted off to the back of the store to fetch something to contain the rainwater. 

"Oh, well that's just great." I muttered, realizing that I had to walk to the train station in the rain without an umbrella. That's what you get when you have a lousy job that is 40 minutes away from home. 

No, I didn't live in Manhattan. I lived in the suburbs in a nice area called Larchmont, it was a cute town but I was never in love with it. 

I placed a small coffee cup underneath the place where water was dripping and turned up my wrist to check the time. 

"Nine thirty, almost time to close this place up." I said, almost smiling.

I pushed the cart back into the storage room after flipping the open sign to closed. I just wanted to leave as soon as everything in the back was settled. When I closed the door to the storage room, I heard a familiar ring of a bell.

 Someone had entered the store. I just wanted to go home and not deal with people. 

"We're closed, sorry." I called out. I wasn’t sorry.

It was no wonder why I couldn't get a better job. I didn't have a friendly personality.

I heard footsteps, followed by a rather loud crash.