Christmas In A Book Store

Chapter One: Mondays Suck

I wasn't fond of Mondays. Though, honestly, who was? I don't think I've met one person in my entire life that has walked up to me and said;

"Hey, isn't this a great Monday Tee?"

That's me, Tee. Well, most people call me Tee, though my name is Tristan. I don't like when people use my full name. It reminds me of those stereotypical high school jocks with the shaved sides of their head and the weird flipped hair on the top. I just don't want to be associated, okay?

I've gotten a bit off topic here. Sorry, anyways, here's the deal: Monday's suck. This Monday, in particular, sucks for one reason; I was just 'let go' from my job last week. That slimy bastard Kosh couldn't even say I was fired, just because I wouldn't go on a freaking date with the creep!

Never in my whole entire nineteen years of life have I felt the intensity to punch someone in the face repeatedly. That's just putting it lightly, too. As if I didn't have enough to worry about with school, now on top of it I need to find a new job. The worst part of this all? I'm currently on break for the Holidays.

Many other students my age would probably be crying in joy for this small reprieve. The way I see it, I'm only prolonging my torture. I have rent to pay. I have food to buy. I have books to pay for. I have insurance to manage. Losing my job before the holidays does not equate to time off. It just means more work for me on the precious three weeks I should be enjoying.

I'm losing my patience as I stare at the mess of brown shag on my head. I look like a fucking troll doll. My hair is standing up haphazardly, wavy and determined to ignore the amount of gel I've used on it. I'm tempted to become the stupid stereotypical jock I was mentioning earlier, but then I'd have to be more of a douche than I already was.

I decide to shrug off the mess that is my hair, messy is a style, right? The green eyes staring back at me in the mirror say otherwise at their rolling, but I'll also ignore myself for now too. Besides, I'm nearly going to be late for an interview at a bookstore.

I'm no bookworm, though I do enjoy the occasional romance novel when I can find one suitable. The only problem I have with it is the way the author always seems to play it off as real life. As if everyone suddenly falls in love with their enemy or best friend at the flip of a coin.

I hurry out the door of my tiny apartment, fumbling with the doorknob as it struggles to stay in one place. I gotta talk to the landlord about that sometime. I pull the blue sweatshirt over my head as I rush down the hallway and out into the bright, snow-covered world.

What a view. Brown snow covered by white snow covered by even more discolored... What the hell is that? I can't worry about it right now, I've got no time to waste. This job might not pay the greatest, but at least it'll keep me off the streets. My insurance is going to have to suffer for a while, which means walking is a necessity now.

Thankfully it doesn't get too cold around here, a breezy twenty degrees is nothing compared to the tundra I was surrounded by when I was younger. I swear my hair transformed to the color it was supposed to be from the white it was when I lived in fifteen below degrees weather.

I didn't have to walk far. Though this place was no Barnes and Nobles, it held a respectable air about it, and I've bought school books from their online stock before. They were pretty cheap, being a secondhand bookstore and all, but they still received newer novels as well.

All in all, I couldn't complain much. The job practically fell into my lap only a few hours after I cried in frustration, embarrassingly I might add, over the phone to a friend. She told me to check out the bookstore because her friend said they were looking for people.