Spring [Completed]

EIGHT

┌─────── ∘∘∘❁∘∘∘ ───────┐

HIM

└─────── ∘∘∘❁∘∘∘ ───────┘

"When I look at you the way all my senses shift, the way my soul sways...it's how I know."

—Butterflies Rising

∘∘∘❁∘∘∘

The lights above shine brightly over head, as soft commercial music plays through the loudspeakers. I push my cart, throwing various items in that'll probably expire before I can even think of using them. Stifling a yawn, I stand in front of a beer advertisement with a clever pun on it. Chuckling to myself, I grab a case and put it in my cart. Why the hell not?

"Excuse me sir."

I turn, startled by the sound of the young girl's voice. Glancing behind me at the empty aisle, I assume she's talking to me. "Hi," I say smiling as she approaches me, bearing a pickle jar the size of her head in her hands.

I study her briefly as she walks up to me. The most prominent features on her round face were her big brown eyes. Almond shaped, and so warm and inviting. They light up her face in a way that naturally draws me in. I blink, trying to refocus as she nears me.

When she finally reaches me, she glances up at me and her eyes widen in shock. "Oh wow." She whispers, her cheeks taking on a pinkish hue. "Your eyes are ravishing."

My mouth hangs open for a moment. Taken aback, I raise a brow and stifle a laugh. "Ravishing?" This kid couldn't be more than 10 years old. I'm surprised her vocabulary is so advanced.

"Yeah, ravishing." She shrugs, resting the jar of pickles on her hip. "It's my word of the day."

Word of the day? "Huh..." I think aloud, slightly impressed. I should make the boys learn a word a day. Or at least just read a book...

"Anyways sir, I'd love to continue to chat with you, but I need to get back to my parents. As you can see, I'm on pickle duty, and I take my job very seriously." She huffs as she holds the jar of pickles against her chest. "So, have you seen two black people that look like they're missing their pride and joy?"

I laugh at her remark. I like this kid. Crouching down to her level, I smile. "I can't say I have, but would you like me to help you look? I can carry your pickles for you."

I wait as she ponders her options, her brown eyes narrowing slightly. "Okay, fine, but don't drop them, okay?" She carefully hands the jar over to me.

I put it in my basket and the girl rolls her shoulders, her curly auburn pigtails swinging with the movement.

"Any idea where they might be?" I ask, glancing around as we begin walking.

"Nah." She shakes her head, grabbing hold of the side of my basket as I push. Suddenly she stops in the middle of the aisle, turning to glance at me, her nose scrunched up in distaste. "Wait."

"What?" I ask, growing concerned.

She reaches into my basket and picks up my Keurig K-cups container. "You seriously drink french vanilla?"