Voices

c h a p t e r 6 : s t a r e

Dedicated to antisocial_dp2 because she pointed out a mistake in this chapter :)

S a m

"All I want to do is hide. But I can't stop myself from staring." - Standing in the Dark, Lawson

I saw her.

The moment she walked into the room.

She stood in the corner.

Watching the world.

Eyes darting everywhere.

I saw her.

And I couldn't look away.

*

I sit on the stool in the corner of the shop, slowly taking in my surroundings.

The thing I like the most about this place is it's uniqueness: how everything is always different, always changing. There are few, if not no, duplicates. I like how this shop is filled with simplicity and complexity at the same time.

I like how this place shows that not everything has to be perfect to have a use.

"Sam."

"Yes, Mr Jones?" I answer, getting to my feet.

"You can go back early today."

I stop in my tracks, startled by his words. "What?"

"You can go back early today," he repeats, walking towards me. "You don't have to stay."

"Are you sure?" I ask, concerned. "What if something happens?"

He chuckles, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's clear that today would be a slow day. Just go home, Sam. I can handle it here."

"You sure?" I ask again, not wanting to leave Mr Jones for fear of any unexpected situations. "I can stay. I have nothing going on today."

He shakes his head. "No, go. It's summer. You shouldn't spend it cooped up in a shop like this."

But I like it. That's why I come back every summer.

Do you really like it?

Is that really why you come back?

You know the reason, Sam. Stop lying to yourself.

"Thank you, Mr Jones," I answer, uncertainty thick in my voice.

He smiles, clearly sensing this. "Don't worry, Sam. Go."

I nod, making a beeline towards the back room to retrieve my belongings. I swing my backpack over my shoulders and head out of the shop.

"Bye, Mr Jones. Take care."

He chuckles. "It's not like you'll be gone for a month. I'll be fine, Sam. Stop worrying."

I nod. "Will do, Mr Jones," I say as I exit the shop, the chiming of the bells signalling my exit.

My right hand holds the strap of my backpack while I stuff my left hand into my jeans pocket, the left strap of my bag dangling behind me. I don't have the energy or motivation to wear it across my shoulders right now.