Anything {Catfish & the Bottlemen}

3

I woke with a start, confused as to where I was; then the memories of the night before came back to me. Van. Me. The breakup. The words he said. 'I love you, but I need another year alone.' What did that mean? In a year's time he'd have an album. He'd have a fan base. He'd have girls throwing themselves at him, because, although I hated him at the minute, he was incredibly sexy. Van could take his pick, it's unlikely he'd even remember my name.

I decided not to dwell on things. It was Saturday, the day I juggled two jobs. A shift down at Llandudno's central record store from 10-3; then a few hours at the chippy down the road from my street, 5-10. My dad's voice kept going round in my head, don't stress yourself too much, don't work too hard. Bit late for that, Pop, I thought.

I moved to Llandudno with all intentions of making a living. Good job, family, settle down. I'd recently just finished my apprenticeship in management, and I wanted to move away to start a new life. I'd been here 6 months, and I'm yet to 'find myself.' Work was limited, turns out there aren't many firms looking for managers in this small town. These jobs pay the bills though, and they're not all bad. In the morning I'm surrounded by music, in the evening I'm surrounded by food; what more could a girl want?

Getting out of bed, I walked through to my kitchen and brewed myself a coffee, thinking that'd help both my head and my mind, to keep me awake during the day. I'd get some breakfast on my way to the record store, although I'm sure I've spent more on Sainsbury's meal deals in the last 6 months than I have on anything else. I poured my coffee into a travel mug, ran back into my room and threw some clothes on; brushed my teeth and hair, then I was ready.

Once again, I checked the time, 9:23am. My lock screen caught my eye. It was a photo of Van and I from a few months ago, when he took me out for my birthday. I mentally reminded myself to change it before the day was done. I headed downstairs, out my apartment doors and into the winter chill.

—

I arrived at work at 9:50, giving me time to flick through the records myself before my shift started. My manager, Oliver, came up to me and started nattering, "morning love, bit chilly out in't it?" I looked up from the 80s Records section and smiled at Oliver. A slight man with receding grey hair, he kept me company at work; we talked about music, mainly. "Yeah, bloody winter," we chuckled together.

My shift started, and the morning was fairly quiet. A young girl came in with the man I presumed to be her dad, and she asked for Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die by Panic! At the Disco, and got so excited when I expressed my love for them, too. She was the only customer that stood out, others just browsed. Oliver let me off for my lunch at 1pm, so I sat in the staff room and shoved my headphones in, listening to The 1975. I opened my pasta pot realising it didn't have a fork, so I creeped out to the front, "Oliver, you don't happen to have a fork or a spoon or something?" I asked. He looked at me with sarcastic disappointment, "if you go into the back cupboard, there's a pack of plastic ones in there," he chuckled. I gave him a thumbs up and walked back into the staff room, resuming my music as I did so.
Reaching into the back cupboard, I found myself a fork and tucked into my lunch.

The last few hours of work were mental, everyone was in and out and buying albums; Oliver and I were rushed off our feet. Finally 3pm came around and it was time to close up. "Any plans tonight, Emily?" Oliver asked me whilst we were closing shutters and covering displays. "Hmm, going home to change and then off back out to work! You?" I say, as jollily as I can knowing full well it was the last thing I wanted to do. Oliver looked at me, raised one eyebrow and ignored my remark about work, proceeding to tell me his plans: "taking the missus and our lad out for a meal, the son's coming back from the navy tonight!" He smiled, beaming with pride. We exchanged pleasantries for a while until we both said farewell at the door, heading our separate ways.

—

I ran into the fish & chip shop, sheltering myself from the rain with my hood, the door chime causing my colleagues to look up. "Evening, Em! Weather's crap tonight!" My manager Freya exclaimed. What is it with everyone talking about the weather today, I thought. I hung my coat and bag up on the rack in the back room, then shoved on my apron and headed to front of shop. We'd only been open ten minutes yet customers were rushing in.

I'd turned round to grab a customer their change, when I heard a voice. That voice. His voice.

"Funny seeing you here, Emily."