Every week a young woman came and went from place to place on a bicycle wearing shirts with either bands,games, comics or phrases on them. Each time Alex saw her from his news stand but held back notion of saying hi in the off chance she might blow him off or consider his strange qualities bothersome also the fact he was strapped to wheel chair didn't help his confidence either.
Though cute she causally carried a angry look on her face .
It was clear to him she had baggage growing once she even wore shirts that said Go fuck yourself, on the front and don’t talk to me on the back both intimidated him. He couldn’t help but think to himself every day since he first saw her. Who was she and why was she so angry ?
“If I could say or do the right thing maybe I could make her smile. At least strike conversation.” The thoughts repeated like obsessions and he knew had to think about something else before it grew into a work effecting problem.
It’s been long time since he's both spoken to a girl without asking about the change, plastic or paper bags. He didn't have the confidence to be that outgoing since his accident either.
At that second his boss pulled up in his minivan to restock the snacks and bottled drinks. He nervously went back to pretending to give a shit about counting money and taking inventory so he didn't get tongue lashes for slacking again.
“Is everything alright Alex?”
He asked. Not in the I really care why. Instead the how is the money coming along the way. He considered his boss a dollar eating, ass hole that just might masturbate to the idea of authority.
He nodded but made the mistake to peer back to see if she was in the distance but she already disappeared.
“Excuse me?” Said an unfamiliar accent.
He jumped at the unexpected words and turned around.
Nervously stutter after stutter he did his best to get a word but couldn't do anything but think to him.
“Speak dumb ass.”
It was hers but by the time he finally said yes to his boss intervened.
She was asking if they had a box of sodas like the one advertised on sale.
But he said no so she gathered handful cans, snacks brought them to counter, and swiped her card.
She handed nearly 20 dollars worth’s snacks and sodas to the group of homeless nearby then floated off.
Thoughts churned in his head. Much louder than his employers lashings about addressing costumers. Bits and pieces of him explaining how much of a fuck up seeped through. But it didn't distract him from thinking about her with the same self-proclaimed over the obsession.
“If she's so angry why open up to those people”
His shift ended. The bus pulled up and the ramp lowered to raise his wheel chair. A mixture of glares, about how long it took and questions of if he needed help came cascading in. He smiled on the outside but on the inside demanded they shut the fuck up.
(There is a second day)
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