tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

december 22ᶰᵈ ─ 9:30 ᵃᵐ

BeakerState couldn't go unnoticeable, I mean it was my favorite shop in Brooklyn, it was organized, always light and happy and there were friendly people there. 

I strolled down the canned goods aisle, leaning my elbows against the cart.

It was a Tuesday and it was packed with people, I tried my best to blend in, not knowing why. After searching the label to a tomato can I chucked that into my cart, and continued lazily down the aisle.

By the time I had finished in the can aisle my cart was full of canned fruit, and beans. I was deciding on a great dinner tonight, since I hadn't cooked in a while, we usually ate cereal or...nothing. Which was wrong, my pale limbs were already getting skinny.

As I was approaching the gum stand, I had begun to reach for Trident Layers when a magazine caught my eye. I shrank back and grabbed it, the familiar face of Michael on it. I leaned against my cart as I read: JACKO DEAD?

"Tabloids." I muttered, not bothering to: 'Read more on page eight,' And slapped the paper back in its place. That paper had me even more thrilled Michael had come to me with his problems. I didn't think he'd ever like me when I first came to work at the Neverland Ranch.

My phone began to vibrate in the back pocket of my skirt, I reached behind and clicked it on. There was a text message from my sister.

Gloria: still comin home for Christmas?

I had forgot. Completely forgot the annual gathering the Cartwright's held every December 25th. I mentally slapped myself before punching in a quick response.

Me: yeah, still stacked with a bunch of work, but I'll try :)

I sighed, I never lied to my sister. We were close like your thumb and index finger pressed together! I strolled down the aisle and tucked my cell back in my pocket. Then I approached the checking out area.

I place my food onto the conveyor belt and waited, trying to take my eyes off of the tabloids, sometimes they are too tempting to look at. I was close to surrendering when-

"So, where do you think he went?" Asked the male cashier, as he tucked my canned goods into paper bags.

I blinked in confusion. "Where do I think who...?" I trailed in question.

He tilted his head to the side as if I was supposed to know what he was talking about and then nodded to my direction, I turned to see a MJ magazine.

"Michael Jackson." He said, loudly. Making me want to shush him.

I shrugged. "Maybe Hawaii." I kid with him, thinking back to this morning.

'Thank you.' Michael had said. I wonder if he meant it.

I shrug away this feeling I felt creep on me this morning, it's like a warm breeze sweeping across my skin. I shift uncomfortably and collect my items.