Re-Imprint

I stared ahead, astutely trying to ignore the person calling my name, but it wasn’t working.

“Joey!”

“What?!” I finally turned around and snapped.

Melinda, one of my co-workers, shrunk back at my harsh tone. We were sitting in the break room of the local grocery store we both worked at, and I had been trying to enjoy my lunch when she interrupted me.

“I was just gonna ask if you had change for a five,” she said quietly.

I sighed, feeling guilty for being so cross with her.

“Sorry, Mel. I’m just not having a good day,” I attempted to smile, but I knew that it was weak. I dragged my purse onto my lap and pulled out my wallet. “Here, I think I have change.” I fished out five ones and handed them to her. She placed a five in my hand.

“It’s okay. I know how it is,” she smiled sympathetically, before going over to the vending machines.

I dropped my purse back down onto the ground and went back to finishing my sandwich. My break was almost over and since I didn’t get off work for another four hours, I wanted to eat it all. In-between bites I looked up at the clock, and jumped from what I saw. I had two minutes left.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumbled.

Quickly, I downed the rest of my Diet Coke. Mel watched me hustle around the room, trying to gather my things up. She chuckled as I skidded out of the break room. Before the door closed I quickly flicked her off. I almost ran back into the store, before realizing I still had my purse over my shoulder. I groaned then hurried back to the locker room, dropped it in my locker and spun the lock to close it.

I made it back to the bakery with my apron on, nametag affixed in place within record time.

“And here I thought you were going to be late,” Avery, the bakery assistant manager, said, smirking all the while. “Start making more dough.”

It was a Saturday, and the store was near empty, but bread still needed to be made and proofed for the next day. This was the worst part about this job, prepping for the next day. Because Jackson’s grocery store was family owned, everything in the bakery was made from scratch everyday.

I went to work on the dough, and I easily slid into the task. It had become near second nature to me months ago. Before I knew it, two hours had passed and new loaves were put into the proofing box so that they would be ready in the morning. I thanked God I didn’t have to come in tomorrow, on a Saturday no less, to do break-out for that day. Waking up at the crack dawn to bake bread was not my idea of a good time. I did have to be here on Sunday though. I wondered if that was possibly worse.

“Joleen, we just had a last minute order called in on a cake. They want it ready in the morning. It’s for a girl’s fifth birthday party. This is everything the mother specified.”

Avery slid a piece of paper across the table to me, with details written out.

“Spend the rest of your time on this.”

I glanced at the clock and bit back a groan. Two hours to decorate a sheet cake and get it perfect? I caught Avery’s gaze, my annoyance clear in my eyes.

“I know. Just get it perfect. I have an order of rolls I need to do.” She walked off, and I couldn’t tell if she was sympathetic, or triumphant.

- - - -

I trudged into the house, yawning as I did so.

“Hey, you’re home!” My mom’s head poked out from the living room, a wide smile on her face. “Damn, girl. You look tired.”

“I am. A last minute cake order came in, and Avery forced it onto me.” I shrugged as I said it, but felt a small swell of pride. The cake had come out near perfect, one of the best ones I had ever done.

“Ah. Well, I made some chili. There are leftovers in the fridge.”

“Kay, Mom.” I pecked her cheek quickly and went to the kitchen.

Our house was small, and we didn’t live in an expensive part of town, but it was home and I loved it. It was made even better that it was in a quiet neighborhood, a near miracle for Seattle.

The chili was sitting in the fridge, still in its original pot. I shook my head at my mom’s laziness. It was just like her to not bother putting it in a container. Just before I grabbed, the little hairs at the back of my neck went straight up. I froze and turned around, my eyes trained on the window.

It was past ten already, and the darkness of the night was unsettling. For the past few nights, I had felt eyes on me. It was silly, but I couldn’t shake it nonetheless. Some part of me was terrified that I was being watched. For what, I didn’t know.

I sucked in a breath, scanning the bushes and the street. There was nothing, but a shiver ran down my back, before settling in my stomach. Dread washed over me and I swallowed.

Somehow, some way, I knew that something was coming.