Choice
1
It’s summer. 90 degrees outside. Bored, I’m fiddling with my pen, leaning over the counter. The shop’s empty, besides some middle-age man reading a paper over a table. Flies buzzing away above me, almost drowning out the old tv placed semi-firmly on a table against the wall. I took a deep breath, turned around, with the smallest willpower to actually get any work done. Just as I was about to grab a dirty rug ad dry off the counter, the doorbell rang. I turned around, and was met by a tall bloke, with shades blocking his eyes.
He drifted up to the counter, and muffled out a “aspirin, two packets please” whilst leaning against the counter, in an attempt to gain balance. It did not work. He slipped of the shades, and rubbed his eyes, mumbling out some swearwords. Hesitantly, I took two packets of aspirin from the shelf under the counter, scanned them, and tried to meet the bloke’s gaze. Bloodshot eyes – figures.
“Are you sure you want the pills? It may be time for a break” I said, still not meeting the flying gaze.
“What do you care” he spat, and I guess he was right. What could I care, Carl would just be happy we had a new costumer – from the rehab clinic or not.
“10 bucks please” I said, and watched the boy fumble around in his pockets, trying to find something resembling the correct amount. At last, just enough coins hit the counter, and he was able to take off. Able. He just stood there for a few seconds, staring at me, squinting his eyes.
“You have no right to judge me okay? I’m rehabbing, I’m a work in process, you have no idea how hard it is okay, don't be such a bitch” he stated, but I didn’t even blink. I’m used to it, being the tension release for more than one patient from the clinic.
“And you have no right to talk to me like that. Have a good day sir” I answered calmly, did that fake smile thing, and turned around. A few seconds and a huff later, the bloke dragged the boxes off the counter, and dangled out. Not before having toppled the newsstand of course.
"Oh and by the way," the dude rung out, making me turn to stare at his drugged face, "I'm Harry"