Scott
"Did you have fun today (Y/C/n)?"
Your little cousin nodded his head vigorously. His face was covered with his chocolate ice cream treat. "Mhm!"
You made your way down the street- the oldest of your cousins was holding their younger sibling's hand, not at all minding their sticky fingers.
"What about you (O/C/n)?"
The tween nodded their head, taking a big bite of their ice cream sandwich. "Yeah, I agree with (Y/C/n), thank's cuz! Mom and dad should go on trips more often!"
"And be stuck with having to buy you sweets every day? I'd be broke within a week!" You and your cousins laugh (not that (Y/C/n) understood why, but you were happy so he was happy), but your happiness ends up disturbing the youngest of the family members.
You turn your attention to the one-year-old baby in the stroller you were pushing along- small whines emitting from them. "Hey, no no no (B/C/n)... Shhh... It's okay." You stop walking and take the baby out of the stroller. "Did we wake you? I'm sorry sweet thing." You then continue to coo at them.
"Pfffft! Grownups and babies..." The eldest rolls their eyes.
"Yeah....Grownups." (Y/C/n) repeats, licking the last of their ice cream.
Meanwhile, you managed to coax (B/C/n) back into sleeping. 'Thank goodness... The last thing we need is a baby crying all the way home-'
"Hey! Loowk at that man ower there! He lookws funny!" (Y/C/n) giggles, pointing across the street.
(O/C/n) scrunches up their face trying to see. "I think I've seen him somewhere before..."
With the baby back in the stroller, you bend down and take (Y/C/n)'s hand, stopping the pointing. "We don't point at people; it's very rude." You half-scold the child, but you do look to where they were previously pointing to see what had them so amused.
Across from you walked a man- he seemed to be very tall and thin. That wasn't too peculiar, but the red dial phone that sat where his head should've been is definitely odd. Luckily he didn't see your cousin pointing him out (or he probably just ignored it).
As he eventually got out of sight, you tore your eyes away. "Come on guys. It's time we get home." Ushering your cousins forward, you headed to their house, the strange man not leaving your thoughts.
Jeremy
"Thanks for helping out (Y/n)."
You place the last book onto the rack. "No problem!"
Your friend seemed to be beeming. She owned the local bookstore- a small, cozy place on the corner of one of the busiest streets in town. She just received a shipment of some new books and had to get them stalled out before the book signing that would take place the next day.
Lucky for her, you were willing and able to lend her a hand.
"So, do you think you can maybe come help out again tomorrow? People are coming from all over, and I'm not sure if I'd be able to handle all of them and the store's regular customers. I'll pay you for your trouble."
You wave her off, "No need. I'll do it, but don't expect me to take anything in return." You playfully wave a finger at her.
She smiles, "But that'll make me feel guilty..."
"No (Friend/name). I don't want anything."
"Oh come on! We both know you need money for college!" She tries to counter.
Biting your lip, you pick up a box and walk to the backroom. "Yeah, don't remind me..." you groan, "But I'm not taking your money. You need it to expand your store."
(Friend/name) sighs. "There are more important things than buildings, (Y/n)."
'Yes. Your happiness.' you think to yourself.
You, not wanting to continue the conversation, busy yourself with carrying empty boxes into the storage room and bringing out full ones to unpack. Two hours later and you finally ran out of packaged books.
It was 7p.m. and it was time for the store to close for the day. Or so you and (Friend/name) thought.
The door 'ting'-ed open and in stepped a young man (or boy?). There wasn't much to see since he was mostly covered by a baggy, green turtleneck sweater. His messy brown hair seemed to have been blown by the wind to make it even more tousled. Looking outside gives you the reason- he came here by bike.
"I-I-I'm sorry. W-were you closing?" he asks, looking guilty.
"We were, but you're always welcome. I told you before, you can come any time! I know you always buy something." Your friend smiled at the young man. They seem to know each other.
"T-thank you (Friend/name)." He stutters another quick apology and disappears amongst the rows of books.
"(Y/n), can you go lock all the windows and backdoor whilst I help our last-minute customer? You can head home, I'll close up."
Shrugging you go do what your friend asked of you.
'Probably her best customer.'
Fritz
"-and then he took me to this cute little place where we met up with his parents. It was so nice spending time with all of them!"
Loading the last of the dishes into the industrial sized dishwasher, you grin as Stella chats on about how she went with her boyfriend to meet his family.
"Well, I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that's a sign Stel."
The waitress clenches her arms in front of her and gives you an ecxited toothy smile. "I hope so! Can you imagine? Me- married!"
"Woah there! He has to ask you first!" you laugh at your over-thrilled friend.
Stella jumps onto the counter and starts looking through a plastic container for a pen. "So? When do you plan on putting yourself out there?"
You almost choke on your own spit.
"Excuse me...?"
"Oh come on (Y/n)! I haven't ever seen you in a relationship." Stella hops off- new pen held ready to write down the last orders of the day before closing time.
"And for good reason. Stel, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm definitely not the typical pretty, normal girl guys go for. Besides, I don't need a man to be happy."
"Mmmhhhmmm. Yeah, we'll talk again once you fall in love." Stella saunters off to help the costumers who just entered, leaving you to roll your eyes and get to cooking.
'If only I could marry food.'
Two toasted sandwiches and some fries later, Stella returns and recites a big order. "Two cheeseburgers, a large fries, three sodas, a bacon sarmie and a large coffee- to go."
"Wow. Is it a group of friends who ordered all that?" You get the buns ready and load the cut potatoes into the frier.
"Nope. It's that guy right there." Stella points out the person who was supposedly going to eat that. He was busy chatting to two other people at one of the closer tables (they seem to know one another, you take notice). The man was slightly chubby, but wasn't overweight or as large as most people who came here. His curls were a flaming orange and seemed to bounce around slightly with each head movement. Two chartreuse eyes were rimmed by a pair of large glasses and his cheeks were sprinkled with small freckles.
'He looks kinda cute in a nerdy kind of way...' you think whilst staring at the stranger.
Stella smirks, showing her obvious smugness. "He comes here a lot. Apparently he works all night at that pizzeria and he takes food along for the night and next day."
"..."
"(Y/n), something is burning."
Vincent
Taking a deep breath to get into the interviewing-mode, you knock twice on the door with plate reading "Boss" on it.
"Come in!" a gruff voice said from the other side.
You do so, and find yourself standing before a man you can only presume is the owner or rather, as the name plate presents, the boss. He was filling out some papers, a cigar loosely hung from between his teeth as he scribbled things down.
Discomfited, you clear your throat, "Hello, sir. I'm (Y/n) (L/n)-"
"I know who you are." He looks up from his work and right into your eyes.
'Oh no. Another "no killer will work for me" scenario.'
You were just about to explain yourself and why you really need this job when he continues. "You're the girl I spoke to over the phone," he states unperturbed.
"O-oh...OH yes! That's me! The phone girl..." You cringe at the words after they left your mouth.
"We already have a Phone Guy. I'm afraid we'll need to find another title for you." The cigar-puffing man says it like it's a very important manner on his hands. "But we'll get to it. So, (Y/n), can you start tomorrow?"
Surprised, you try to form words. "Can....Can I? Tomorrow? I...Yes! I can start tomorrow!" You hastily answer. "Thank you sir, " you solemnly add afterwards. "This means a whole lot. I really need the money."
He mutters a "most people who take this job do". and slides the papers he was signing before, across the desk to you. "Just sign these; and you can call me Boss. All the employees do. Now, come in earlier tomorrow night. I'll tell one of the other guards to explain everything andd get you a uniform." He gives you smile. You gladly return it (along with the signed papers) and head out of the office, giving Boss yet another 'thank you'.
'Finally. I have a job. Things are starting to look-'
A shiver runs up your spine. Looking across the waves of playing children, you meet the large eyes of a stranger dressed in all-purple. Noticing that you were looking at him, he grins broadly. Not wanting to seem rude, you wave at him. He waves back, and that ends the silent greeting.
As you exited the building, the feeling of being watched lingered.
Mike
The joys of paying taxes.
Your day wasn't going too well so far. First you woke up to the neighbors yelling, then you come to the conclusion that you had a leaking sink that needed to be fixed (the entire bathroom floor was wet) and finally, in your hurry to get to the bank, you spilled your scolding drink. At least you got here without any other accidents.
People stood in rows while patiently (and some impatiently) waiting for their turn to cough up the money they owed the government.
You were one of these people.
For some stupid reason, you decided to pay up at the bank instead of paying everything online. Then again, it is safer to physically pay the amount due at the bank itself and not allow a sneaky hacker to take it off your clueless hands. Though, too bad going to the bank takes so much time and effort. At least standing here gave you time to think about...things. Like 'I should not've drank that large cappuccino whilst driving' and 'how do you get coffee stains out of shirts'.
When the thoughts started to lean into a more embarrassing direction, you moved your curious eyes to everyone around you.There were individuals of many different shapes and sizes. Some wore fancy suits and attire, others T-shirt and jeans. Some had children with them, others were alone...
That is when a specific person draws your attention.
"What do you mean 'we can't give you the money' !?" A man wearing a red jersey and matching beanie was hunched as far as possible over the one counter. His deep frown, clenched hands and demanding voice tone made it obvious that he was pretty pissed.
The person on the other side of the glass seemed quite frightened. "Sir, we can't just give you the inheritance money. You still need to fill out some more paperwork-"
"I gave you all the necessary paperwork damn it!" He shuts his eyes tightly and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Listen, I need it to pay for the house. My parents' house! The one I also inherited when my parents died five years ago! For the last five years I've been trying to get this inheritance! I finished school, I went to college and got an associate degree, I got a job! What else do you want from me!?"
"Sir, I need you to calm down before I call security."
"Calm down? CALM DOWN!? You listen here bub! I've been waiting in line for three hours!-"
But he didn't listen, and you watched as the security officers came in to escort him out.
"Alright! Alright! I can show myself out!" The guy stomps out of the building- infuriated.
Paying taxes didn't seem so boring now.