waste of paint. ( FILLIE )

i sped up and turned around the corner, my boots squeaking on the newly polished floor.

my eyes fell upon the closest employee.
he was a tall, lanky boy that was stocking all sorts of tape as he hummed along to a song which, if i'm being honest, sounded utterly horrible. that could just be because he's a bad hummer though.
i need to stop being to quick to judge, gosh.

i approached him, putting my hands together in front of me.

"hi uh - ..tape" i nervously stammered out. i felt my cheeks flush a bright shade of pink once i realized how stupid i must've sounded to the very kind boy whose name was finn by the looks of his name tag, but you can never trust anyone. who knows, he could be an undercover spy put to work to try and find out who stole five packs of neon coloured pipe cleaners last monday.

i vigorously shook my head to break my obnoxious, horn blowing train of thought as i realized he was speaking to me.

"you need tape miss? we have regular, extra adhesive, double-sided, duct tape, and decorative tape," he said, seeming out of breath from his speed of speech.
"and well, we're getting a shipment of packaging tape tomorrow because we went out of stock when this freak old lady who was really short, and i mean really short, raided us of it. i was there and she just pulled all of the rolls off the shelf and threw them into her basket, i was shocked," he blabbered, talking very crazily with his hands.

my eyes widened, maybe he didn't think i was awkward with the way i messed up that sentence if he never knows when to stop talking.
hmm, i wonder if his mind is constantly rushing with a thousand things at once like mine. but anyways..

"no, - ahem," i said, clearing my throat. (hey what can i say? it's february and my doctor says that i'm at peak for post nasal drip this month).
"i'm looking for a pebble."