The Noise In Your Heart
Jessie came back from the stockroom covered in dust. Her glasses were disheveled, barely holding up her eyes. I was posted at the register, counting the scratches in the countertop again. She wore her radiant grin, as per usual. We always tried to keep it even by rotating duties on the night shift. Sometimes, I’d ring people up. Other times, I’d restock the freezer and shelves for the following morning.
“Did you see the pile of brokens back there? When did it get so big?”
My organs felt heavy. “I don’t know.”
The musky fluorescent light followed her back up to the register, reminding me that we were closing in 30 minutes.
“Gary dropped a case of wine yesterday,” I said, “but I feel like it’s been that big since I got here. Why? What’d you break?”
“Oh, just a six-pack. One of the bottles fell through. I don’t like going down there,” she laughed. “The dungeon is creepy.”
“How often do they sell back the damaged stuff?”
“I’ve only seen it once since I’ve been here.”
“How long is that?”
“In this store?” She stopped to ponder her choices. “I think 10 years? Maybe? Yeah 10 years.”
I tried to picture myself in 10 years.
