as little left to say

I could go on and list all sorts of 'trivial' things about my evening.

Like how the week I began orange tags were half off and the week I left orange tags were again discounted. One of the regulars met me over at the jewelry case, stocky and tall, backpacked as usual finding curiousity at trinkets I would pass by. She always seems to pick out things with rustic elegance, much like herself.

There was this man who resales handbags on ebay, eccentric looking with a roman face. Huge rectangular glasses, thick hair like the scientist on back to the future. He came to the register back when I was all tied up and bound by the ropes I was trying to learn. I completely messed up on the transaction before him, and then blundered on his check out as well. "Don't worry its a part of life. We mess up and then go from there." was his rough wording. I expected him to be angry or impatient, but not in the least. I would have told him thank you but... I just shyed off.

Kara stopped me in the parking lot and asked me to call now and then, tell her how things are. I act stiff around her still. I don't think I have ever met a woman with such an contrasting presence, hard and scanning at the same time as caring and maternal.

"if you bore me I am comfortable, if you interest me I am scared." It's a quote I find so relevant to my personality.

As I was chucking things into the compactor I nticed Margaret lighting up a smoke. She'd just quit recently. She sat there on the dock with a willowly look to her, dangling her old and tired feet over the end.

I hated the politics of the place. No doubt about it. Obviously admist my complaints something kept me there longer than usual. I don't think I was meant to leave earlier than now.

I kind of choked up when I saw the gift basket they had arranged for me at the end of the shift. Chocolate, a candle, flowers, and a silly cat figurine, a card written in Margaret's beautiful cursive.

I thought about when Marché left. You should have seen her whir through those dressing rooms, completely up to par. There was something so hardworking and efficient about her. Marché would sit alone on breaks, with her igloo lunch box plastered with cat and starwars stickers. We left with about the same reputations.

My mom pointed out the other day that I get along best with the older employees. I shrugged.

I need to call them tommorrow. My card fell out in the store. I could go on about the little things.