Straighter than Parallel Parking

≈ t w e n t y - t h r e e ≈

"What seems to be the problem, miss?" James appears from Janice, his long strides matching her quick, short legs just a minute behind. 

Janice doesn't stick around to see the situation rectified — she has seen enough of James's magic in diminishing altercations to trust him. Right now, she has more important matters at hand, like a jumbo pack of chips for her snack break beckoning for her. 

Twisting the sign on her desk saying "available" to "on break, please try next cashier!", she runs out the store, thankful for the fact that the food court was only a couple stops down from the store.

Unfortunately, Janice is so engrossed in wondering if she has enough quarters for a double cheese burger that she isn't paying attention to the boy walking around the corner with a cup of coffee in one hand.

And walks directly into her.

It's like watching a slow motion movie except you can't pause it. Janice feels the hot coffee skim her face as it flies out of the boy's grasp, her eyes widening as she rebalances herself (years and years of skill honed from sports), watching the cup hit the floor, a brown puddle accumulating around it. She stands there, wincing as she realizes that the cup isn't the only thing on the floor. 

She offers the poor boy, drenched with darkened spots of brown on his graphic tee, a hand, but he only glares. "Look at what you've done!"

Janice retracts her hand, turning defensive. "Takes two to tango. You weren't exactly watching where you went either."

"I don't see you on the floor, humiliated, and looking like you pissed yourself."

"Your pants are perfectly dry, thoug— nevermind. Are you going to blame me because people might get the impression you weren't potty trained as a kid?"

What is it with me talking to people with wet clothes, thought Janice.

"That's not what I meant! Ugh!" The boy's ruddy cheeks turns red, pointedly ignoring Janice and picking himself up, furiously dabbing at the stains on his shirt with the napkins he held onto during the collision.

Janice decides to cut him some slack. "Look, kid."

"Morgan,"

"Yeah, kid, I'm Janice."

Morgan, who had been avoiding eye contact with Janice from the beginning of the incident, finds the courage to look her in the eye. As soon as he catches her eye, however, he squints. Something probes in the back of his head that he knows this girl but he can't place how.

Janice, clueless to the boy's new curiosity, rambles on. "I'll give you five dollars for your shirt."

"Five dollars?! That's how much the coffee cost."

"I have food to get myself. Don't act cheap."

"You're calling me cheap?" Janice glares at Morgan, his milky brown skin shrinking at the intensity. "Right, sorry. Thanks for the five bucks." Morgan wanted to add a couple other sentiments, but he values being able to walk on two legs so he decides to hold them in. 

Handing over the precious five dollar bill, Janice straightens out her blouse. Unbeknownst to her, she accidentally flashes her work name tag to Morgan. "Do you work here or something?"

Janice coughs. "Uh. Yeah. Why?"

"You walked into m— fine, I walked into you, like, five seconds after I walked out of the Apple store. You weren't in front of me that long so you must've walked out at the same time I did. Do you work at American's Eagle? Because you could, you know, instead of five bucks, give me a coupon."