The Perfect Woman

            Macy's Department Store: 1951

Richard took another long drag on his Lucky Strike. He closed his eyes enjoying the taste of the stale smoke softly touching the back of his throat. As he exhaled, he was interrupted by a nagging cough, making a fist he softly pounded on his chest. He had smoked his lungs dry today. Reaching into the breast pocket of his suit jacket he wrapped his hand around the pack of cigarettes. Flipping the lid open he realized there was only one left. He stuck his hand out and counted on his fingers.

This was his fifth smoke break of the day.

It's not even noon yet, he thought to himself looking down at his wristwatch.

The cigarette burning in his hand was a now just a nub, so he flicked it to the ground and stomped it out with the tip of his dress shoe. He shifted his body weight to his left hip then his right hip, trying to get comfortable on the wooden crate he had found in the alley behind the store. Not the ideal chair, but comfort was not as important as keeping hidden. Because if someone found him he would once again have to enter the retail purgatory that many people mistakenly called a department store.

He had once been a man of ideas. Big ideas. Not dreams though, there is a difference, because dreaming is only reserved for the individuals who don't plan on following through. Ideas, however, can be acted on, set in motion and completed. But now he found himself dreaming constantly. It was almost a sickness, a longing to be somewhere else and a desire to not be fully present. He craved freedom, he craved it so ardently it frightened him.

So here he sat on his crate day after day smoking through packs of cigarettes while watching the cars going by. He imagined the people behind the wheel and wondered where they were heading. Wondering how long it would take them to get to where they were going, and wanting desperately to get in his own car and just drive.

"Richard!"

He was jolted back into reality.

Hank, the store manager appeared in front of him. He looked down at Richard through his thick black rimmed glasses.

"Have you been out here this whole time?"

Richard stood up and began to retie his tie, his hands fumbling as he tried to do so.

"I'm sorry sir..."

"Just get in there and do what your supposed too," Hank replied opening the backdoor. "We'll talk about this later."

Richard closed his eyes as he stepped through the doorframe, he was determined to make work different today. He needed to start enjoying it, somehow, anyhow.

"Take this rack to women's wear," Hank said pointing at a rolling cart stocked with the new fall dresses that had arrived on the truck that morning.

Richard clutched onto the rack and began to carefully push it through the store, as he approached women's wear he slowed to a stop. Grabbing a few dresses he turned to put them on the sales floor, but when he turned, he turned straight into the face of a young woman.

"Hello there..."

Startled, he took a quick step backward. His eyes roamed about her body, she was wearing a navy blue sailor dress that hugged her curves, and extenuated her long slim legs. Her deep wine red curls were pushed over to one side, cascading down the front of her chest.

"Are those for me?" She asked, her pouty bright red lips pulling into a smile.

Richard locked onto her bright blue Bambi eyes. He couldn't get any words to come out.