by Ryan Walraven<\/p>\n
Harold pressed his nose to the cold glass of the convenience store window and stared longingly at the street lights outside. Flurries were drifting down from somewhere high in the troposphere and they seemed to give a majesty to the evening that he was neither accustomed to nor inclined to associate himself with. The entire city was abuzz with life; bustling crowds of holiday shoppers had descended to roam the pine-scented shops and watch the Christmas lights go up. But unlike them, Harold was tethered to the counter of the Save-And-Go. Snow or no snow, someone had to guard the smoothie machine and sell donuts to the consumerist hordes.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey Harold!\u201d a cheery voice called from over his shoulder. \u201cStand there any longer and your tongue will freeze to the window.\u201d<\/p>\n
Harold put on a smile and peeled himself away from the view to face the fluorescent reality of the store. \u201cMy face is still intact, thanks,\u201d he said. \u201cI was just watching for the milk delivery truck.\u201d<\/p>\n
Josh, his boss, gave him a skeptical look and tapped his watch. \u201cNot tonight,\u201d he smiled, \u201cthe milk delivery comes on Saturdays.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, right,\u201d Harold gave a shrug, \u201cI forgot. All of these days seem to blur together.\u201d<\/p>\n
Josh gave a curt laugh. \u201cKeep talking like that and it\u2019s going to be a long month,\u201d he said, wagging his finger. \u201cBusiness is going to pick up over the holidays, but most of your coworkers are out of town.\u201d<\/p>\n
Harold tapped his fingers on the plastic wood of the counter and restrained the urge to groan.\u00a0 <\/span>He knew where this was going. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll be here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays as usual.\u201d<\/p>\n Of course,\u201d Josh said, snapping his fingers and squeezing his eyes shut. He was dancing around the subject, Harold could tell, and strategizing as he listened to the Sinatra pouring out of the speakers overhead.<\/p>\n Harold averted his eyes, compulsively clicking the receipt-signing pen open and closed.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know,\u201d Josh said, winding up and putting his hand on Harold\u2019s shoulder, \u201cIf you could use some extra hours for the holidays, the store would love to have you.\u201d<\/p>\n No. No. Harold closed his eyes and bit his tongue, but he couldn\u2019t think of a reply and somehow the words came rolling out: \u201cSure, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n Harold turned his head and sighed. This would probably mean working on Christmas eve. Somewhere inside of him, part of his soul collapsed like an arthritic grandma on a hot city street.<\/p>\n \u201cThataboy!\u201d Josh said, thumping him on the shoulder and shaking Harold like a limp mop. \u201cYou\u2019re awesome, Har!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know,\u201d Harold said, rubbing his shoulder. \u201cYou have unusually strong arms for such a skinny guy.\u201d<\/p>\n Josh laughed and thumped him on the shoulder again. \u201cYou should come to the gym with me sometime!\u201d<\/p>\n This was a request Harold had more practice at refusing. \u201cNo thanks man,\u201d he said, patting his flat stomach. \u201cI\u2019m skinny enough as it is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSuit yourself,\u201d Josh said. He winked at Harold and turned to leave.<\/p>\n Harold gave a sigh of relief, but Josh turned back at the last second. \u201cHey Har, while it\u2019s slow would you mind restocking the shelves?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNoooo problem,\u201d he said. Of course he didn\u2019t mind doing all the work. He grabbed a cart and rolled it to the back room, grabbing haphazard bags of potato chips and candy bars, along with a whole array of bottled sodas and tea. Josh hadn\u2019t mentioned the drinks yet, but he would. That was guaranteed.<\/p>\n He rolled back to the floor and found a lone customer roaming the aisles: a skinny teenaged girl with flyaway hair and a serpentine green scarf. She ignored Harold, despite the rattling of his cart, and danced around a shelf of pixie sticks and bubble gum. She was kind of cute in an Ellen Page sort of way, Harold concluded.<\/p>\n He rolled the cart down an adjacent aisle, certain that he\u2019d make it to the soda cases without even attracting a glance from the girl, yet some inexplicable whim struck her and she skipped directly into his path like a gazelle into a freight truck on the African Savanna.<\/p>\n The rolling cart of liquid sugar cane and processed potato barely grazed her knee, but it was enough to send it careening into a candy display. The resulting collision\u00a0 <\/span>knocked half a dozen bottles to the floor and engulfed an entire shelf of gummy bears.\u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhoa, sorry,\u201d she gasped, gaping at the mess.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s nothing,\u201d Harold replied, rolling his eyes and surveying the devastation. The gummy casualties numbered in the hundreds, maybe more, and ruined plastic packages lay all around them. \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAre you sure you don\u2019t need some help or something?\u201d the girl said, tugging on the draw string of her hoodie.<\/p>\n \u201cSure, I guess,\u201d Harold mumbled and knelt down to pick the intact sodas away from the mess, his heart beating.<\/p>\n \u201cIs that a yes or a no?\u201d<\/p>\n He sighed; it was pretty much impossible not to imagine the girl making the situation worse. \u201cNever mind. Don\u2019t worry about it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOook.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She shrugged and wandered off.\u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Harold quickly got to work, but behind him someone cleared their throat. \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n He turned and glanced over his shoulder, expecting Josh to demand an explanation, but it was just a customer standing at the register: a guy in the leather jacket leaning on the counter and waiting to be checked out.\u00a0 <\/span>Exercising his benign judgment, Harold saved a lone squadron of gummy bears from the disaster and perched them atop one of the shelves. Then, dusting his hands off, he jogged over to the counter and rung up the guy\u2019s items. It was important to keep one\u2019s priorities straight on the job, and small acts of individuality were the only thing that helped him keep his sanity.<\/p>\n \u201cHrrnhrmnnnn.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>The customer cleared his throat again.<\/p>\n Harold looked up into a pair of bloodshot eyes and noticed several details about the man\u2019s appearance: his hair was long and tangled, his leather jacket was worn and cracked, and his face was covered in a shaggy mustache that curled around into a pair of enormous sideburns. As he looked at Harold, one eye seemed vaguely out of focus.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I help you?\u201d Harold ask, tentatively.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The man raised a finger to reply and licked his hairy upper lip, but couldn\u2019t seem to get the words out. He thumped his hand on the counter instead, his body quivering.<\/p>\n Harold backed away from the counter, rolling his eyes.\u00a0 <\/span>He had experience dealing with these types \u2013 the man had probably been having drugged-out convenience store adventures for going on thirty years. Rather than argue with such a veteran, Harold decided to summon Josh right away.\u00a0 <\/span>He turned to leave, but the man finally spoke.<\/p>\n \u201cCigarettes,\u201d the man mumbled, his chin now resting against his chest.<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t carry \u2013\u201d Harold started.<\/p>\n \u201cCigarettes!\u201d the man shouted. The Sinatra pumping quietly out of the speakers seemed distant and faraway, the store a silent wasteland.<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t sell any,\u201d Harold said, backing up another step and bumping into the wall.<\/p>\n The man\u2019s eyes widened and his gaze drifted shakily to the windows and the snow falling outside. \u201cHow\u2026 how come you ain\u2019t got no cigarettes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe hate tobacco farmers,\u201d Harold gibed, exasperated as he turned to leave the store and summon Josh. The man lunged over the counter and his hand caught Harold\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cSmokes,\u201d the man reiterated, his breath reeking of smoke and whiskey.<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t have any goddamned cigarettes,\u201d Harold said, losing his temper and smacking the man\u2019s arm away.<\/p>\n The man\u2019s eyes widened and his lip trembled as he surveyed his own arm like some sort of alien artifact. Harold spun and tried again to leave, but the man pushed him from behind and sent Harold tumbling over his own backpack. He fell to the floor behind the counter, his elbow hitting the wall and erupting with pain.<\/p>\n Behind him, the man grunted and moved off into the store mumbling. Harold gave a quick sigh of relief \u2013 he was still alive \u2013 and tried to haul himself to his feet, but when he put weight on his right arm, the elbow gave way and collapsed. Taking a deep breath and leaning back against the wall, he tried to think reasonably. The best thing to do now would be to call the police. There was a phone nearby on the counter, but Harold concluded that the one in the back office was probably a better choice. He started to get to his feet and froze.<\/p>\n \u201cHey man, hands off,\u201d the girl with the green scarf said.<\/p>\n \u201cBitch,\u201d the man growled.<\/p>\n Harold\u2019s mind raced. He dove for the phone cord and dragged it off the counter to where he was hiding.\u00a0 <\/span>He held his arm out to catch it, but his heart was beating and his arms were shaking. The phone smacked his arm and clattered to the floor, its receiver shattering into five pieces.<\/p>\n Harold froze.<\/p>\n \u201cGet off me man!\u201d the girl shouted again.<\/p>\n Harold cringed; he didn\u2019t want to get shivved but it was too much to just sit there and listen. Grabbing a broom with his left hand, he unsteadily hauled himself to the counter.<\/p>\n The red-eyed man was standing in the middle of the central aisle, his back to Harold as he faced the girl.<\/p>\n She had her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised.<\/p>\n Overhead, the music stopped. The playlist must have come to an end. Harold gripped the broom in hand like a medieval broad sword and steadied himself. If he lunged just right\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cNone uh these people round here,\u201d the man started, stumbling forward and clutching the girl\u2019s arm. \u201cNone uh them\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Harold\u2019s pulse was racing. His mouth had run dry and his right arm felt as if it might break off at the elbow, but he had to do something. He started off from behind the counter and raised the broom to swing, but before he could, the girl went crazy.<\/p>\n \u201cGet the fuck off of me!\u201d she screamed, pushing the guy back into a shelf of potato chips. The man\u2019s bloodshot eyes looked as startled as Harold felt. She stomped up a step closer and pointed at the man\u2019s face and then out the door. \u201cSeriously. Get the hell out of here old man!\u201d<\/p>\n The man\u2019s lip trembled and he pushed himself to his feet, crushing potato chips and corn curls under his palms. Harold\u2019s mouth dropped open as he awaited the flash of a fist, or a knife, but the man got to his feet and stumbled past, straight out the door.<\/p>\n \u201cSome people,\u201d the girl said, shaking her head. \u201cAre you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh, yeah, I guess\u201d Harold said, shaking his head and limping back to the counter. \u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t let guys like that push you around,\u201d she said, carrying a pack of gummy worms to the counter as if nothing had happened. \u201cHe\u2019s just a drugged-out creep.\u201d<\/p>\n Harold laughed curtly and rang her up. \u201cHey,\u201d he said, as she walked out the door.<\/p>\n \u201cHuh?\u201d she turned, her hair wafting in the draft out of the heating ducts.<\/p>\n \u201cNevermind,\u201d Harold said, shaking his head and rubbing his elbow.<\/p>\n \u201cSee you later.\u201d She waved and left.<\/p>\n As if on cue, Josh returned to the store, but Harold had made up his mind.<\/p>\n \u201cDid I miss anything?\u201d Josh joked, cracking a smile.<\/p>\n \u201cThe music went off,\u201d Harold shook his head and walked to the counter, leaning the broom against the Tic-Tac display. \u201cAnd I quit,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me, Har?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI said I quit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought so,\u201d Josh replied, eyeballing Harold. \u201cAre you messing with me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>Harold grabbed his bag and jacket from under the counter and turned to go, but stopped. \u201cNo,\u201d he said again, \u201cnot this time.\u201d<\/p>\n The automatic doors parted with a hiss and he passed out into the night, subconsciously searching for signs of a green scarf, but the whirling snowflakes were thick, covering everything, and he couldn\u2019t see far beyond glow of the store front.<\/p>\n \n \u00a9 Ryan Walraven 2015<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" by Ryan Walraven Harold pressed his nose to the cold glass of the convenience store window and stared longingly at the street lights outside. Flurries were drifting down from somewhere high in the troposphere and they seemed to give a majesty to the evening that he was neither accustomed to\u2026 Continue reading<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-84","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/84","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=84"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/84\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":111,"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/84\/revisions\/111"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=84"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=84"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ryanwalraven.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=84"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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