The Gift Shop

The conversation seemed rather dull in comparison to the usual banters the two of them would share in the early morning.
Amber looked down at her cold cup of tea as she wandered toward the somewhat cluttered kitchen sink.

"The only time that woman gives me the right change is when I order a ham sandwich.
I'm serious, Am's. She hasn't got her head screwed on properly. She's just too old. She ought to hire some help." George stated matter of factly.

Amber just turned to face him and gave a soft reassuring smile, though she hadn't been paying much attention. She was much more concerned with whether or not she should brew another cup of tea or if it would be wasted and slowly go undrank and cold in front of her again.
Truthfully, George's rants had gone quite stale to her since she'd started her new job.
She didn't spend a lot of her time doing very much of anything since she'd started working there. In fact, most of the time she was simply standing at the counter waiting for the odd one or two daily customers to walk through the door. Still, her life had been filled with an underlying sense excitement and curiosity. Her head filled days filled with intrigue and her head filled with questions yet to be answered.
The most curious thing about the little gift shop wasn't its strange wares. It wasn't the old trinkets or the strange markings that covered the ceiling. It wasn't that there were only ever the same customers and it wasn't that the room smelled of sage and wine. It was the owner himself. A misterious man who she'd hardly seen let alone spoken to. She hadn't even looked at him at a close enough distance to picture his face.
"Maybe I should go and apply for the job. I'd probably be making more than I do at the diner and I wouldn't be working bad hours. She's a nice lady.
It's not a bad idea, is it?" George continued.

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind. It's okay, I'm more or less talking to myself anyway.
Are you okay? You seem distracted."
Amber smiled "I'm fine. It's okay. I just have to work in a little while and I should be heading off soon."

George slowly pulled himself up out of his chair and placed his old dirty cap back on the top of his scruffy brown head of hair.

"Don't worry about telling me to leave. I've got to go soon anyway. Things to procrastinate doing. People to avoid. You know how it is."

"I do." Amber giggled in response.
She took her coat and her house keys and walked George out to the front door leaving their cold tea and half eaten jam toast to sit in the kitchen.

The autumn air was cold and brisk and the soft wind pushed straight through their thick coats and through to their bones.

"Another time then, yeah?" George asked, shaking as he kissed Amber softly on the cheek.

"Of course." She replied "We always have time for tea and you're always welcome."

George smiled and tipped his hat politely as he walked down the garden path and through the old rusty front gate.

Despite her excitement for wanting to get to the shop, Amber fiddled anxiously with the house keys as she locked the front door.

☮☮☮

Amber walked at an unusually fast pace through the cold autumn streets, her soft red hair falling into her face and her pale skin feeling wind bitten.
She hardly noticed the busy streets as she used to. Her mind was occupied by one thing and one thing only.
Amber smiled as she got closer to her destination, excitement written all over her flushed cheeks. Though that changed somewhat quickly as she noticed the owner standing out the front, locking the door behind him.

"E- Excuse me!" Amber shouted, running toward the shop.

"Hm?"

"Is... Is the shop closed today? I have a shift don't I?" She continued, trying as best she could to catch her breath.

"I have a delivery I need to make. I didn't think you were coming." He replied.

She looked up at him in intrigue as he pushed his dark hair behind an ear to reveal a worn face and bright green eyes staring right at her.

"But, of course I would be. I'm here aren't I?"

She quickly turned away, her cheeks already flushed turning a brighter, if possible, shade of pink.

"You're late... by about two minutes."

His voice lowered, raspy and sharp.

"You're kidding me."

He turned to face her properly, his large coat being pulled around by the wind.

"Well, since you've actually arrived... Here." He put out his left hand, the keys dangling from his spider-like fingers.

Amber gently took hold of them and he looked down at her, his face somewhat quizzical.

"Don't be late again."

"Okay.. Yes, sir."

"And be careful. I have a bad feeling about today."

She felt her stomach pull up into her chest for a moment as he let go of the keys and slowly headed off down the cracked footpath.

"Call me Atticus."

"Okay. Thank you, Atticus."

She watched his figure move down the street until he eventually merged with the sea of people and was completely out of sight.

"I suppose I'd better get started then."