FFP#17 – Sorry We’re Closed
He liked to go to stores ten minutes before closing. There was something about the way the store clerks said, “Sir, we’re closing in ten minutes,” that made him feel secure. At five ‘til, the gentle warning. Then a second warning, sometimes a third. Finally, at closing, a firm, slightly nasally, “Sir, we’re closed now, you’ll have to leave,” all the clerks standing together watching him. His favorite was the “we’ll have to call the police” warning. He liked to see just how far he could push, just how far he could get away with it. One time, a clerk — a twenty-something pimply faced kid with long hair — said, “Get the fuck out of here, you decaying freak.” The kid’s coworkers laughed. That he didn’t like and he considered waiting outside for the kid, maybe push him around a bit. Instead, he said, “No, you get the fuck out of here,” and left. He had other places to be, anyway, like that one restaurant that was open all night long with the cute waitress who never asked him to leave and brought him coffee until the sun came up. The morning rays flooded the table with a yellow brightness, leaving him feeling sleepy and mellow and a lot less lonely.
Tags: flash fiction project
Uncategorized | 
May 2, 2010 11:14 pm
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