The sun was just setting over the hills, beyond the rich commercial buildings and plush homes. The sky, painted with wispy pinks and pastel violets in the west, faded into metallic blues and pale blacks in the east. There was not so much a stratus cloud in the sky.
It was uncharacteristically chilly for a July evening in the Midwest, but Brad still had the top down on his convertible GTO, the lights from gas stations and convenience stores reflecting off the long, black hood.
He pulled into the parking lot, shut off the engine, and grabbed his weathered, leather jacket out of the duffle bag in the backseat, and pulled it on as he walked to the store’s door.
The chimes greeted him as he went in, as did the older, oriental woman behind the counter did with a smile and small nod when he glanced her way.
He bounced his eyes from her, to avoid her glance, but mustered up a friendly Hello. He could feel her eyes on him. He knew he’d been here before.
But have I? he thought to himself.
He reached the end of the first isle, and his eyes scanned down, and then up, for what he had stopped here for.
There it is, he thought almost aloud.
Cold air hit his face as the cooler door opened, and he grabbed a 12-pack, and he gently let the glass door shut. He turned and saw the lady still watching him intently. Confidently, he approached the counter.
“Hello,” he said smiling, reaching into his unbuttoned jacket. “And I’ll have—”
“I know who you are,” the Asian woman snapped at him abruptly, without any facial expression. “I know…,” but she let the sentence trail off.
Brad tried to reenact his smile. “Ma’am, I’ve never been here before—”
“I know who you are,” she repeated. She then jabbed her finger in the air at him: “You!”
Slowly, finding his wallet inside the jacket, he started to bring his hand out with his wallet. She yelped and reached under the counter.
Confused, Brad stopped his movement, and tried to sound calm and friendly. “No, I’m not from here.” He started to slowly pull out his wallet again, but she suddenly drew out a small caliber pistol and quickly pointed it at Brad’s chest, his hand.
His eyes widened, but he didn’t move.
“No, no, lady! A wallet. All I have is a wallet!”
Fear in her eyes, she violently shook her head. Why is she so afraid? “No! You no move or I put you away, you!”
Even in his confusion and fear, her comment was almost comical. But, it was almost…familiar?
“Lady,” he said softly, “all I have is a wallet. I need to pay you for the beer.” A pause. “Or I walk out with nothing?”
She glared at his hand’s bulge within his leather jacket. After a long moment, with her gun still drawn, he slowly moved his wallet into view. She waited; anticipation. Expectation?
BANG!
The gun went off, a shell piercing into Brad’s chest. So familiar, like it’s happened before, like he’s been here before. Brad’s last thought was, She looks like she’s seen a ghost.
Copyright © 2006 Dustcircle Fiction
