Late Shift

Trisha was working the late shift at Target. Clad as she was in tan pants and red short-sleeved blouse, she looked down the deserted aisles, looking for signs on life, or a patron to process through the checkstand maze.

She was crabby. She wasn't supposed to work tonight, but Cheryl couldn't make it in due to snow. So, Trisha had to cover.

So, there she stood, in sensible shoes, regretting the fast food she feasted on for dinner. Bored. Cold. Dreaming of a day when she would work regular hours with regular weekends. Maybe she would be a dental assistant. Maybe she would be a paralegal (whatever that is...) The odor of the over-buttered popcorn wafted from the food court.

She felt ill.

Suddenly she saw him. Perhaps the last customer of the night on this snowy November Monday. He was tall. Over 6 foot for sure. He wore a ratty green sweatshirt under a black leather coat. He had bad hair. His glasses were too big for his face. He smelled vaguely of gin.

In one hand, he carried discs; CDs and DVDs. Among them, INXS, Gorillaz, and the Little Mermaid. In the other hand he held a six pack of one-liter bottles of 7-Up.

For this, he left the house late and braved the snow? This was the late night shopping emergency? Sad really. She smiled politely.

He fumbled with his debit card, seemingly confused by basic technology. He mumbled something both unfunny and incoherent.

Trisha kindly packed the bags, gave the man his receipt, and sent him on his way. To his credit, he shuffled out the door without complication.

Trisha, knowing the end of the shift was near, slumped against her register and sighed.