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The first ting! of the day from the cashier register put me at ease. Of the five years that I've worked here, not once had it failed to remind me of my role as an employee. It provided me with an identity, a sense of belongingness in a society that values putting people in a box to label.
The conflict between wanting to conform yet wanting to escape brewed inside of me as I am unable to renounce society. It felt nice to belong, to not be a mere spectator outside the box. But, it is tiring- keeping track of my actions, words, making sure that the spotlight does not shine on me. I did not want to be placed under scrutiny of the watchful gaze of society else they would know that I was the odd one out.
The bell rang, signaling the opening of the door. My attention was brought to the blonde whose jade eyes swept the store, widening when it stopped on me.
I smiled, reminded of the $200,000 waiting for me in one year or earlier. The possibility of Sophie Astor dying earlier than a year seemed far fetched as I analyzed her well kept physical appearance. Her dark blonde hair glowed despite of the unpleasant light produced by the shop's bulb. I wouldn't have guessed she would be dead in a year if she didn't say.
"Hi," she greeted breathlessly with a smile, a pink tint dusting her cheeks. I took note of the first symptom of her illness- the shortness of breath caused by physical exertion.
Regardless of the fact that it hasn't even been 24 hours since I last saw her, I greeted her back a little friendlier than I would for a customer.
Sophie opened her mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the crashing noise near the bookshelves to my right. A stout woman dressed in overalls stood in the middle of the scattered books which came from the small bookstand that is now tipped to the side, leaning on the wall.
"Are you planning to stare at it forever? The books aren't going to pick itself, will it?" The woman scowled, shaking her head at me. "The service here is really bad." Taking her phone from her handbag, she pointed it towards me, typing furiously after a couple of seconds.
"Hey! Delete that!" Sophie shouted, making me flinch. Stomping towards the woman, she placed her hand on her hips. It reminded me of how mom stood whenever she caught me stealing sweets for our house guests.
I walked over and picked up the books scattered on the floor one by one, noticing how the floor needed a good mopping. I would have to remind Norm to do so.
The sudden warmth of a grip on my wrist made me let go of the books I've already collected, but I could only watch and hope that they didn't dent the edges of the covers.
"Don't pick that up." Sophie gritted her teeth and I felt her hold on me tighten. It could mean that she's mad. But what was the cause of it? The woman accidentally tipped over a shelf and it's my duty to help customers. I couldn't see why she'd get mad.
