Unpack orders. Alphabetize the merchandise. Help customers.
It had been the routine for the past three weeks, and so far Ghent had proven himself capable of his latest job.
Working in a small, cluttered bookstore may have sounded mediocre for some, but Ghent considered himself lucky. He knew this part of town well enough. The area was less busy than the neighboring city, and it was neglected. The surrounding shops had seen better days, but he didn’t mind. Some of the best deals came from mom and pop stores, plus the labor wasn't all that difficult.
The day started out like many before. The work was repetitive, but it was familiar, and he'd gotten into a good routine. Ghent made sure to keep himself moving when his boss was present. Frank was a gruff sort of fellow, he was often mumbling, and he had plenty of tattoos in the need of touching up. Rather than man the shop, he was often watching the TV by the window, one that Ghent was certain survived through the 80's.
A mother with two children were the first customers of the day. The trio appeared well off, which was rare for the area. The woman looked around with one child in her arms, the other tagging close behind. This was nothing out of the ordinary, but Ghent slowed when he caught sight of the youngest toddler.
For Ghent, everything seemed to go quiet. He could only stare, his face void of any emotion. This was not the first time this had happened, there were moments in his life when he felt that something was familiar. It was a haunting kind of a feeling, one that he hated to experience, and yet he could not seem to avoid it.
The child looked about five or so – petite, almost doll-like. She had a head of platinum blonde hair, and a red dress better suited for a birthday party. The sight of her struck a long ago memory within his mind, and Ghent found himself wishing to remember why this child would be at all familiar.
“Hey! What’s the matter with you?” A customer had been trying to obtain Ghent's attention, his annoyance evident. “You deaf or something?” In order to test this theory for himself, the man snapped his fingers in Ghent’s face, and that was enough to earn a reaction out of him.
Angered, Ghent pushed his hand away. “What’s your problem?” The child was gone from his line of vision, and instead he was faced with a man who – in his opinion – could have passed for an escaped convict. Until that moment, he’d missed him completely, and he wasn’t all that pleased to have been so rudely approached.
Words were exchanged, and Ghent succeeded in angering the man so much that Frank had to be called out. Trouble brought on by his moments of delusion. Again.
* * *
“Sorry, Ghent. I like ya, I really do. If I had a kid of my own, I’d want ‘em to be just like you. Just less klutzy.” It had come time to close the shop, but Frank called Ghent back into the storage room.
Ghent grimaced, but he did not protest. Sure, he’d broken a few things during his days of employment, but he wasn’t a klutz. He merely underestimated his own strength.
“Frank, come on. I’m the only employee you have. Is this about earlier? Give me another chance – look, you won’t even have to pay me today, or tomorrow. I’ll make up for it.” Pleading was out of character for him, but he was desperate enough to try. Finding a job nearby had proven difficult, and his parents were in need of money.
“It’s not just that. Business has been slow. Can’t afford to keep you on, especially when you're riling customers.” Frank was apologetic, but he couldn’t help but pity the teenager before him. “If you need any references, I’ll vouch on your behalf, alright? No hard feelings, now. You be sure to tell your friends about this place.”
Ghent had seen this coming, but being fired came as a disappointment nonetheless. Working here had plenty of perks – free access to the latest comic books being one of them. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he retrieved his coat from one of the shelving units, and then paused near the exit. “So…do I still get paid?”
Relieved that there’d been no hard feelings, Frank gave a toothy grin. “Sure y’do. I’ve got something better than money, though.” He knelt down near the shelf and pulled out a large cardboard box. From the looks of it, it had been forgotten until now. “Worth more than your wages, too.”
The weight of the box caught Ghent off guard. With his hands so full, he couldn’t look inside. “You’re paying me in books?"
* * *
The walk home was a long one. Once it started to rain, Ghent sought refuge under the nearest awning. This was where his curiosity got the better of him. The contents of the box remained unknown. Tearing off the yellowed tape, Ghent found that his 'wages' consisted of three comics with faulty covers, and six old, cringe-worthy romance novels from another era. No wonder this had been put into storage. "You're all heart, Frank."
Visibly disgusted, Ghent looked the loot over and settled for taking the comics. The books weren't worth reselling, so he left them to their demise.
At the very bottom of the box, there were several classic novels with spines so weak that the pages were spilling out. Tom Sawyer, Little Women, White Fang . . . Alice in Wonderland. The last came as a rude, unwelcome shock to him. Gasping underneath his breath, Ghent hastily tossed the box aside, his heart beating faster than it had been all morning.
Fifteen minutes passed without the rain showing signs of ceasing. Deciding to head home, Ghent tucked the comics underneath his jacket, disturbed by his own misfortune.
