Late Night Nutella

10: You Should Smile More

Business crawled along at a snail's pace. Maybe the blame could be placed on the day of the week, Tuesday, and the boatload of homework students had received. However, I enjoyed helping out at Brenda's clothing store. It felt quaint and homely, almost like I belonged there. The customers, mostly teens, almost never made a rude remark. Overall, I began to feel pretty good.

The bell above the door chimed, causing my head to snap up. At first, I spotted a mop of inky hair brushing against her shoulders. Then, I spotted her eyes. Tears brimmed them, her arms wrapped around her frail body. Cleo kept her eyes cast downwards, awkwardly poking at a top on clearance.

I observed her from behind the counter, legs yearning for a break from holding up my weight. She probably didn't know my name. The only reason hers became etched into my brain was because of her jerk of an ex. He broke up with her in the middle of the hallway, leaving her to run off weeping. Honestly, the scene scared me. Meatbag could've done that to Cheyenne. He had her wrapped around his finger, and that terrified me.

Cleo held a plain top to her chest, observing herself in a mirror beside the door. The bright white of the tank contrasted against her dark flesh. A few faux diamonds lined the collarbone, giving it a unique yet simple twist. The poor girl couldn't muster a twitch of her lips. She simply tossed the shirt back into the pile.

"Miss?"

I blinked, glancing up at the impatient redhead before me. He tossed a heap of clothing onto the counter, casually leaning against it. After emitting a soft sigh, I offered him a tilt of my lips. The teen seemed disinterested, glancing off into the distance. I wonder what made him that way, cold and disconnected from the world around him. It wasn't my place to judge the customers, nor was it my job to offer them advice. So, I simply rung up the tops, one by one. He had good clothing taste, I noticed. The colors didn't scream 'look at me!", yet they didn't contain a depressing vibe.

"Are you done judging my clothing choice, blondie?" He seethed, ripping the light blue bag from my grasp. The plastic stretched and groaned from the excess bundle of clothes.

In my mind, I attempted to reason with myself. Yelling at him would only make things worse. Plus, Brenda might've taken my job away, thinking I couldn't handle it. So, I shrugged, grabbing the money from his hands and shoving it in the cash register. His purchase came to more than one hundred bucks, yet he payed the precise amount in cash.

I jumped as the bag crashed onto the counter.

"I'm gonna get one more top. Can you hold onto this?" The boy muttered, walking off before I could answer.

An idea formed in my head as my gaze shifted to a stack of sticky notes. The notes were a deep pink, Christie's favorite color. I could hear her voice in my head encouraging me to pursue my idea. I could also imagine her shouting at the customer for being rude. Trust me, he wouldn't want to meet Christie with his current attitude.

After glancing around the shop, I grabbed a pen from the cup holding a plethora of them. Then, I peeled off a sticky note. My sloppy penmanship did nothing to compliment the midnight ink or the sunset note, yet I attempt to make it legible. As I glanced up, my heart leapt into my throat. The boy walked out of the changing room, a white t-shirt swung over his shoulder.

A giddy feeling bubbled within me as I slipped the note into the bag. The boy arrived in front of me moments later, lazily tossing the tee onto the counter. Smiling, I rung it up and took his money once again.

"Have a nice day!" I chirped, straightening my posture and resting my hands in front of me.

The boy's eyebrows shot up in a quizzical manner. Then, he shook his head, almost as if dismissing some question from his mind. The bag's handle loosely hung off his arm as he exited the shop, his strides short.

My attention snapped to Cleo, who continued to hold tops to her chest. Each top she would return to its former position. Did she not like Cheyenne's designs? Another top dropped back onto the clearance table. I could've sworn I heard her sigh.

As I leaned back against the wall, my thoughts wandered to last night. After I arrived home, I found Cheyenne making herself a sandwich. Relief consumed me, but anger seemed to burn her alive. Her ice cold glare stung. The usually easy going, always smiling Cheyenne had turned indifferent towards me.

"H-Hello?"

Snapped out of my thought, my focus shifted to Cleo. She fidgeted with the hem of her top, midnight curls slightly obscuring her eyes, which were a window into her soul. She looked so heartbroken, like her ex had smashed her beating heart onto the floor. Sympathy filled me, but I knew she wouldn't wish to hear it. I'm not sure anyone likes people constantly babbling condolences or sympathetic phrases. After a while, their voices blend to sound like a broken CD, reiterating the same line over and over until you wish to toss it out a window.

"Hi!" I smiled, taking a tentative step forward. "How can I help you today?"

She ran a hand through her curls, which tangled halfway. As she yanked her fingers away from the knot, she glanced away from me. "Um, do you have any, um, orange tanks, by chance?"

I racked my brain but came up short. "No, sorry."

"Oh-"

"Wait!" I exclaimed, causing her to flinch. Then, I turned around to rummage through a bin of miscellaneous items behind the counter. They were a mix of returns and rejects to be restocked. Earlier that day, I remember a teen returning the stop, claiming it didn't fit right.

"Um, it's okay if you don't."

"Aha!" I shouted with glee, spinning around with the shirt dropped over my arm. It gracefully landed on the counter. The design was a replica of the first top she tried on, minus the color.

Her lips twitched slightly as she held up the shirt. The gems reflected the sunlight streaming through the doors and lighting the store. Slowly, she turned it around to face her. It fell back onto the counter.

"Thank you so much! I'll take it!"

A small smile tugged at my lips before I scanned the tag. As Cleo turned to examine a blouse, I quickly scribbled a note and shoved it in her bag. She turned back to me and grabbed the bag before rushing towards the door. She seemed in a hurry. As she walked away, I noticed how small her waist was. She didn't seem thin in a super model way, but rather in a malnourished way. As I leaned back against the wall once again, I couldn't help but ponder what her story was. Would she appreciate the note?

'Don't worry', the sticky note read, 'Any guy that rude isn't worth your smile. By the way, you should smile more. You should be happy more.'

My phone suddenly buzzed, causing me to nearly leap out of my skin. Before it could stop, I snatched it up. My smile quickly morphed to an expression of dread.

"Connie, get to the beach!"

____

Here you go, autumn_writing! You inspired me to write more.

Not much going on, but it did establish something major in the plot.

Thoughts?

I'm gonna have volleyball practice this week, then school starts Monday. Wish me luck.

QOTD: Who do you think called Connie and what's happening at the beach?

The name 'Cleo' was suggested by SilentSpeaker01

300 reads??? I can't right now! Like 10 chapters, a little over a month of posting,and then this! Wow, thanks guys, I'm speechless!

Peace,

-Sarah.