Thieves Among Us
le début, parte deux
Clara had never been more bored in her life. To be honest, life in Chenekovah was like living in a ghost town, at best, but today seemed particularly unbearable. She had dressed carefully that morning, feeling hung-over and bloated, hoping that rejecting her new peplum for the comfortable long, belted skirt and worn-thin cardigan would make her feel better. Somehow, it lessened her hangover and made her feel slightly more human.
The one upside to living in the middle-of-nowhere was that Clara didn’t need a car to get anywhere. None of her neighbors needed to know how embarrassingly appalling her driving was, especially during an emergency trip to the local drugstore for hair dye. The downside was that she was usually late to work.
As usual, she crept past her boss’s office and into the supply room, grabbing her horrific nametag and attempting to use her cardigan guard to cover it up as she walked behind the counter.
“Next in line, please!” she smiled.
Clara had become a master at smiling through hangovers and rude people who didn’t understand how their bank account could be liquidated on such short notice. Smiling at school used to be just like this; a carefully concealed grimace with sharp eyebrows.
The day passed without any interest, as usual, the minutes trickling by to her lunch break. She decided on taking one last customer before retreating to the back office to grab her purse and walk to the nearest grocery store.
A few minutes later, she wished she had left the last customer to Inga. Or better yet, never even gotten out of bed that morning.
Clara kept her eyes on his jacket where he had hid the gun as she gingerly filled the bag with stacked bills. She could barely stop her hands from shaking as he yawned and checked his watch –
And that’s when his hand crossed his jacket, and she saw something. The burn scar on his wrist, so awkwardly placed and shaped that it could only be –
“Noah?” She couldn’t stop herself from saying it out loud. It was like a wonderful nightmare, or a terrible daydream, or some kind of event that couldn’t be true.
He looked at her, taking off his ridiculous sunglasses to gawk at her.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, leaning closer as he inspected her face. Clara felt a bit violated under his scrutiny and moved her cardigan guard again.
“I can’t believe you found me here,” Clara smiled, mostly out of uncertain shock. Happiness, too, but not much of it. “It’s just…wow!”
“Yeah, it’s crazy.” Noah sounded less excited, and his eyes darted to the door, but Clara didn’t care – it was all too extraordinary.
After living in this wretched town for a handful of years, Clara craved excitement. When her neighbor, the ridiculously ancient and senile Mrs. Bucket, almost set her house on fire, Clara was ecstatic for weeks. She felt high when she thought her mailman was a crazed stalker and worked at the bank for the off-chance that some crazed gunman would come barreling in.
Crazed gunman, Noah was not, but he brought so much excitement Clara forgot to be upset that she had been found.
He opened his mouth to leave but Clara barely noticed as she started talking. “Look, my lunch break is about now if you want to catch up on things?”
Noah scoffed before agreeing and Clara smiled heartily. Without stopping to think, she switched off her station and hopped on the counter, swinging her legs across (delicately, making sure her skirt wouldn’t fly up to meet her face) and jumping lithely down on the ground. Noah raised his eyebrows at her before carefully putting his sunglasses on.
“What was that all about?” He asked before remembering his vow to stay silent. She smiled up at him, noticing through the reflection on his sunglasses that her bangs would need a trim soon.
“The old fogies in here need some sort of entertainment in their mundane lives,” she smiled as she walked by him. Noah followed her out the door and into the sunlight.
The one upside to living in the middle-of-nowhere was that Clara didn’t need a car to get anywhere. None of her neighbors needed to know how embarrassingly appalling her driving was, especially during an emergency trip to the local drugstore for hair dye. The downside was that she was usually late to work.
As usual, she crept past her boss’s office and into the supply room, grabbing her horrific nametag and attempting to use her cardigan guard to cover it up as she walked behind the counter.
“Next in line, please!” she smiled.
Clara had become a master at smiling through hangovers and rude people who didn’t understand how their bank account could be liquidated on such short notice. Smiling at school used to be just like this; a carefully concealed grimace with sharp eyebrows.
The day passed without any interest, as usual, the minutes trickling by to her lunch break. She decided on taking one last customer before retreating to the back office to grab her purse and walk to the nearest grocery store.
A few minutes later, she wished she had left the last customer to Inga. Or better yet, never even gotten out of bed that morning.
Clara kept her eyes on his jacket where he had hid the gun as she gingerly filled the bag with stacked bills. She could barely stop her hands from shaking as he yawned and checked his watch –
And that’s when his hand crossed his jacket, and she saw something. The burn scar on his wrist, so awkwardly placed and shaped that it could only be –
“Noah?” She couldn’t stop herself from saying it out loud. It was like a wonderful nightmare, or a terrible daydream, or some kind of event that couldn’t be true.
He looked at her, taking off his ridiculous sunglasses to gawk at her.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, leaning closer as he inspected her face. Clara felt a bit violated under his scrutiny and moved her cardigan guard again.
“I can’t believe you found me here,” Clara smiled, mostly out of uncertain shock. Happiness, too, but not much of it. “It’s just…wow!”
“Yeah, it’s crazy.” Noah sounded less excited, and his eyes darted to the door, but Clara didn’t care – it was all too extraordinary.
After living in this wretched town for a handful of years, Clara craved excitement. When her neighbor, the ridiculously ancient and senile Mrs. Bucket, almost set her house on fire, Clara was ecstatic for weeks. She felt high when she thought her mailman was a crazed stalker and worked at the bank for the off-chance that some crazed gunman would come barreling in.
Crazed gunman, Noah was not, but he brought so much excitement Clara forgot to be upset that she had been found.
He opened his mouth to leave but Clara barely noticed as she started talking. “Look, my lunch break is about now if you want to catch up on things?”
Noah scoffed before agreeing and Clara smiled heartily. Without stopping to think, she switched off her station and hopped on the counter, swinging her legs across (delicately, making sure her skirt wouldn’t fly up to meet her face) and jumping lithely down on the ground. Noah raised his eyebrows at her before carefully putting his sunglasses on.
“What was that all about?” He asked before remembering his vow to stay silent. She smiled up at him, noticing through the reflection on his sunglasses that her bangs would need a trim soon.
“The old fogies in here need some sort of entertainment in their mundane lives,” she smiled as she walked by him. Noah followed her out the door and into the sunlight.