citrine extras

curious gazes

Across the space, the bell dinged again, another customer stopping by.

Instead of the usual greeting Harry offered to all guests, Parker heard a giddy sigh of, "Sunshine!" ring from the head of the shop.

Lifting his gaze from where he was examining a record cover laden with roses and glimmering gold font, he saw a woman with a beaming smile making her way towards the register area. A plastic takeaway bag hung from her elbow, her hair pulled back with her outfit consisting of a logo'd shirt and black pants. The logo was familiar, from a restaurant deeper in the plaza that had margaritas that were a little too strong but cheap enough it didn't matter.

"Hi, Harry," she greeted, opening her arms as Harry met her halfway and reciprocated her hug.

The plastic bag crinkled over his shoulder but neither of them paid the food any mind as they wrapped around each other. Quiet whispers were shared between them, Harry's curls creating a small curtain so Parker couldn't even see what kind of reaction these secrets pulled from the newcomer.

Instead, Parker only got to hear the sound of her laugh as she drew away from the hug. He felt a bit bad as he kept watching, but even when they shared a small kiss, he couldn't pull his eyes away.

Harry had mentioned more than once these small details about his wife, interjecting that she loved a certain album, or that she recommended something new to him that he was now letting others in on. Truthfully, with who Harry was—so eccentric, extroverted in an introverted way, and seemingly from a different time—Parker had imagined his wife to be completely different than to who was standing before him.

This woman seemed... normal.

Not that it was a bad thing, or that Harry wasn't, but she wasn't draped in lace and gauze with jewels and glitter following her every step. She looked like she belonged in this century.

He turned his attention back to the record in his hand a split second before she would have caught his stare. Though there was a track list right before him, he didn't read a single word, feeling a bit flustered knowing he had just witnessed what was most likely a private moment between the two of them.

Parker couldn't help the way his mind went back to Annie.

Would she visit him during her lunch? Would they embrace like that, without a care? What kind of secrets would she share with him?

He couldn't help the minute check he made to his phone screen.

No new notifications.

Folding his phone back into his pocket, Parker directed his focus back onto his shopping. Meandering back towards the crates, he started flicking through the alphabetized stacks.

With only a quiet album playing on the shop's record player—something crackly and old he didn't recognize but didn't mind—, he could hear the murmurings of the couple now huddled behind the register counter together. Though he didn't mean to eavesdrop, he didn't particularly try hard not to either.

Straining an ear, he heard their hushed conversation over the music and quiet rustling of the plastic bag.

"I can come back later, or save this for dinner," the woman said, "I don't want you to get in trouble, honey."

"'S fine, dove, really," Harry insisted, his smile audible, "I know him—he's really nice. He won't mind, I promise. If he needs my help, I'll help."

"But, H—" she tried again, only to be abruptly cut off.

Maybe it was the romance on his mind, but Parker wondered if the soft sound he heard was another quiet kiss they shared. Harry's tactic to get his wife to let go of the argument.