Liquid Feels - Book 3 - DP Series - Complete

32. Lonely

The following week, I decide it's time to really hunker down and take this grown-up thing seriously. It's time I stop depending on my parents for a monthly allowance and their washing machine. So, that's how I find myself printing off copies of my resume and then taking a stroll downtown, handing in the form to every store in the town center.

I'm dressed in my frumpiest sweat pants and a coat that looks like it was torn from the back of a Zebra. It's fake, and everyone knows it, but it's so incredibly warm. Warmth always outweighs style when it's five degrees outside. With black earmuffs in place, I meander down sidewalks, stuffing my resume under the door of shops that are closed and entering the ones that are open.

"Hi," I greet one store employee, scanning the shelves of supplements, essential oils, and creepy crystals cluttering the shop. "Are you hiring?"

The woman stops midway through opening a box and lifts heavily-coated lashes toward me. Her tongue slips from her mouth to trail along her cherry-tinted bottom lip and then she smiles.

"Nope." Then with a dismissive wave of her taloned fingers, she grins widely and returns to her task.

I pucker my lips to the side, both disturbed by her behavior and awed by it. To be both bubbly and rude at the same time is actually quite impressive. I can't even find it in myself to be bothered by it. Instead, I mutter an 'alrighty' and step back into the lung-shattering cold.

The next shop I enter is warm from the moment I step through the door. Not just in temperature but in ambiance. The room is divided into several sections. There's a living room, a dining room, and a bedroom. The furniture displayed in each is done with an artistic eye. Pillows accent each room with bright colors and plants sit perched on side tables and shelves. Candles line the wall opposite the main counter and scent the air with cinnamon, vanilla, warm bread, and cloves.

In short, this place is most people's nightmare. Every flat surface is holding a lamp or some kind of handmade nicknack. The aisles are so small you'd practically have to sample the furniture just to let someone else pass, and they'd have to do it while maneuvering around the chandeliers hanging overhead. It's cluttered and messy and stuffy.

But, to me, this is beautiful.

I small hunched woman shuffles from the back of the store, her eyes on the ground as she maneuvers around displays and furniture. When she reaches the front desk, she begins humming something under her breath as she bends to grab a small cloth out from underneath the counter.

"Hello," I say, stepping forward and nearly scaring the poor woman into her grave.

"Oh!" Her voice wobbles. "Hun, you frightened me?" She chuckles to herself. "How can I help you today?"

"I was wondering if you might be hiring?"

Her shoulders perk up and she holds a finger up. "Stay right here. I'll be back in a moment."

I nod, rotating in a slow circle as my eyes linger on items I'd missed during my first glance of the place. About a minute later, the woman returns; a taller, younger woman behind her.

"Hi!" the tall woman greets, "I'm Becky. This is my mother Sheryl," she points to the hunched woman, "My husband and I own the shop and were just discussing the possibility of hiring. Would you be able to interview today?"

"Today?" I echo, "Like, right now?" I glance down at my attire and mentally chastise myself for not dressing up a little more.

When I glance up Becky is smiling at me like she knows exactly what I'm thinking. There's something about her that seems so down to earth. She's not concerned about my Zebra coat and sweats. She's looking for someone who has good character, not good fashion sense.