Carpe Diem
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,158
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,158
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
An Encounter at the Store
A/N: I know these chapters are short, but that's how they keep coming out. I can't really promise they'll get any longer, but I will make an effort to that effect. I still don't really know where this story is going, but I really can't wait to get there. Also, a question: would you prefer I stick with the dashes to indicate dialogue, or would you prefer I switch to quotation marks? As always, reviews are appreciated.
An Encounter at the Store
—Good afternoon. Can I help you find something? Jim greeted cheerfully.
It was mostly mechanical, now, his job. Inquire as to which book the customer was searching, attempt to find said book. And was there anything else? No? Would the customer please follow him to the cash register? Of course. And how will the customer be paying? Cash? Very well then. Would the customer like a bag? No thank you.
—Here's your change, and have a nice day, he said with that same smile he always wore at work.
He milled about for a while, tidying up the store, replacing books on the shelves. Two more hours, and then class again. That left twenty minutes for supper, and then he could get maybe five or six hours of sleep before his first class the next day.
He yawned.
He hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. Toss and turn as he might he could never seem to find that comfortable position necessary for sleep. And he was feeling his loss as he bustled about the shop. A slight lag in his step, a certain dullness of his eyes. But it was nothing new; he had handled lack of sleep before, and this would most certainly not be the last time. Just another one of life's tribulations one must overcome to be successful.
It was a slow day, and as the hour wore on the lull between customers became more and more unbearable and his yawns more and more frequent. A bell. Another customer. He turned to face this new customer with what he called his professional face.
—Good afternoon. Can I help you find something?
"Why yes. . . I'm looking for a particular book," the customer responded.
"And does this book have a name?"
"Yes. At Swim, Two Boys."
"Hmm. I think we just might still have a copy." He maneuvered over behind the counter in search of the book, but alas, it was nowhere to be found.
"Oh," the customer said, "maybe I'll try somewhere else."
"Tell you what," Jim said as he began to search through his own bag, "I happen to have my own copy. Why don't you just borrow this and we'll order you a copy?" He held out the book.
"Oh. . . thank you. I'm very anxious to start reading it."
"It's a very good book. I really enjoyed it."
"Well, again, thank you. Do I need to go ahead and pay for my order?"
"No. You don't have to pay until you receive it. I will need some personal information, though," Jim said as he handed him a pink slip to fill out his information.
"I really don't know how I can properly thank you."
"There's no need. I'm always happy to share my books."
As he handed the customer his book, he made eye contact for the first time. Those eyes; he had seen them before. But where?
"Well. I have to get going. When should my book be in?"
"Should be by Thursday. We'll call you when it gets in."
"I guess I'll see you then," the customer said as he exited the store, the bells signaling the door's closing.
He had seen him before, somewhere he couldn't quite remember. Oh well. He glanced at the sheet for a name to put with the face: Patrick. He would see this Patrick again, of that he was certain. The question, however, was whether he could wait until when his book arrived on Thursday.
And then the two hours were up and his shift was over and he was heading back to class. As he navigated the throng of people heading in the opposite direction, he realized he was wearing an uncharacteristic smile. There was an unusual bounce to his step. And his mind was busy plotting something. And, for some reason, that made him happy.
An Encounter at the Store
—Good afternoon. Can I help you find something? Jim greeted cheerfully.
It was mostly mechanical, now, his job. Inquire as to which book the customer was searching, attempt to find said book. And was there anything else? No? Would the customer please follow him to the cash register? Of course. And how will the customer be paying? Cash? Very well then. Would the customer like a bag? No thank you.
—Here's your change, and have a nice day, he said with that same smile he always wore at work.
He milled about for a while, tidying up the store, replacing books on the shelves. Two more hours, and then class again. That left twenty minutes for supper, and then he could get maybe five or six hours of sleep before his first class the next day.
He yawned.
He hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. Toss and turn as he might he could never seem to find that comfortable position necessary for sleep. And he was feeling his loss as he bustled about the shop. A slight lag in his step, a certain dullness of his eyes. But it was nothing new; he had handled lack of sleep before, and this would most certainly not be the last time. Just another one of life's tribulations one must overcome to be successful.
It was a slow day, and as the hour wore on the lull between customers became more and more unbearable and his yawns more and more frequent. A bell. Another customer. He turned to face this new customer with what he called his professional face.
—Good afternoon. Can I help you find something?
"Why yes. . . I'm looking for a particular book," the customer responded.
"And does this book have a name?"
"Yes. At Swim, Two Boys."
"Hmm. I think we just might still have a copy." He maneuvered over behind the counter in search of the book, but alas, it was nowhere to be found.
"Oh," the customer said, "maybe I'll try somewhere else."
"Tell you what," Jim said as he began to search through his own bag, "I happen to have my own copy. Why don't you just borrow this and we'll order you a copy?" He held out the book.
"Oh. . . thank you. I'm very anxious to start reading it."
"It's a very good book. I really enjoyed it."
"Well, again, thank you. Do I need to go ahead and pay for my order?"
"No. You don't have to pay until you receive it. I will need some personal information, though," Jim said as he handed him a pink slip to fill out his information.
"I really don't know how I can properly thank you."
"There's no need. I'm always happy to share my books."
As he handed the customer his book, he made eye contact for the first time. Those eyes; he had seen them before. But where?
"Well. I have to get going. When should my book be in?"
"Should be by Thursday. We'll call you when it gets in."
"I guess I'll see you then," the customer said as he exited the store, the bells signaling the door's closing.
He had seen him before, somewhere he couldn't quite remember. Oh well. He glanced at the sheet for a name to put with the face: Patrick. He would see this Patrick again, of that he was certain. The question, however, was whether he could wait until when his book arrived on Thursday.
And then the two hours were up and his shift was over and he was heading back to class. As he navigated the throng of people heading in the opposite direction, he realized he was wearing an uncharacteristic smile. There was an unusual bounce to his step. And his mind was busy plotting something. And, for some reason, that made him happy.