The Pet Shop Helper [G/t]

Chapter One

I woke up to a plain white ceiling, just like every morning. I got up, messed with my short blonde pixiecut in the mirror and rub my purple eyes. Seventeen, and living alone in a house that I managed to buy. My parents and I never got along, and so I left. I dropped out of high school, knowing that my parents will never pay for my college. I have a job at a borrower pet shop, and that's my whole life. I love it though.
I threw on my work shirt, changed into jeans from sweatpants, and grabbed an apple before leaving. I don't have a car, so I walk everywhere. I don't mind it, even if it is winter. The sky is a mix of blue, white, and gray during the winter. Dreamania is weird like that. In the region I live in, it's just normal life. Other regions might be hectic or full of zombies. So, I'm fine walking in the cold instead of running from the undead.
The pet shop isn't too far from my place, so it doesn't take long to get there. I live in a small house in a small neighborhood in town. When I go in, my boss, Simon Locust, is at the counter. His long black hair in a ponytail and stubble giving him a rather intimidating look. He's also very loud, which startles the borrowers. And me a lot.
I go to the backroom to prepare breakfast for the borrowers we have. We buy borrower-sized food from the store, and I'm left to plate them. It's difficult, but I manage. After playing up some borrower-sized pre-made bowls of cereal and placing two cartons of milk on each small tray, I lift up the big tray which holds the smaller ones.
Along the walls are glass containers, which are almost like dollhouses. They're two floored, with wood floor on each. The bottom floor has the bathroom in the back, with a shower. Above is the bedroom with multiple beds. There's also books their size for them, and some coloring books for the younger ones. I had to beg Simon to give the borrowers these, because before they were just sitting in the cages with nothing. I also had to pay for them.
The sides of the dollhouses, given the fact that the front is made of glass, are white plastic. Some walls have drawings from the little ones on them. There's a small door made of wood in front of each container, along with a small porch. Yeah, I had to lose part of my paycheck the last three months to pay for these upgrades.
I click the button that unlocks all the doors, and watch as the borrowers slowly wake up and come for breakfast. After passing around food, I collect the trays and plastic bowls.

"Alright, time to return to your houses." I said, feeling bad. The older borrowers sigh, and the younger ones whine to them about not wanting to leave. After all of them get into their homes, I have to lock the doors. Once I was done with that, I flipped the sign outside to say "Open" and went to wait at the counter after Simon leaves to the backroom to make sure all the cages are ready for when someone buys a borrower.
Today, a girl with her father walks in. She had short red hair and green eyes, looks like she's nine or eight, which worries me. Children never take care of a borrower. But I force a kind smile on my face. For some reason, unlike many of the kids that come here and leave with a borrower screaming in their hands which makes me feel so guilty, she's quiet. Almost depressingly quiet.

"Welcome to our humble shop, how may I help you today?" I asked. The dad seems to force a weak smile.

"My wife just left the other day. And my little girl hasn't been taking it so well. So I thought that maybe a new friend would help her." He says. My heartaches for the girl, but that doesn't push away my worries.

"Well, I can happily help you find a perfect borrower friend. Are you looking for someone young like her or maybe a more mature one?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter." The father answered. Usually they want borrowers that are the same age as their child, which makes my heart crack even more when I hear about the child killing the borrower. So it's weird that the father doesn't care what age the borrower is. I swallow a lump in my throat.