Hey! I was just sitting here for a bit, looking through some old notebooks of mine and I found a start of a story that I had written a while ago. I revamped it a bit, wrote a little more, and decided to put it up here while I wait for my approval! Comments are most welcome! The story is most definitely not complete.
That's all he needed to do, but first, he would have to make it from his car into the store. He pulled his tan Macintosh tighter around his thin frame in an attempt to ward off the chill wind that cut through him on all sides. The scarf that his mother had given him years ago was taut against his neck and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets. The snow whirled around him in fantastical patterns of white and clung to his worn felt fedora and stung his cheeks into a chapped rosy red. His breath misted in front of him with every breath and he struggled to inhale the icy air in return. The light ahead was the store and he knew he only had a little farther to go. He bent his head down to keep the snow off of his oval glasses and trudged on ahead through the impending blizzard.
Why was he doing this again? Because he needed milk. He had History exams to grade and nothing helped that particular process like a steaming cup of tea. But tea needed milk and sugar. He had the sugar, but had no milk. This was an issue. Any other day he might have just gone without tea, but it had been a tough day. His alarm had not gone off that morning and he almost arrived late for his own class, and then he realized that the exams that he needed to hand out were still sitting on his table. The day had degenerated from there.
The double doors opened with a rush of warm air that immediately fogged his glasses. He gently took them off and rubbed them clean on the end of his scarf as he let the doors close behind him, encasing him in the heat of the store. Slipping his oval glasses back on he squared his shoulders. Milk. Right. He stepped into the grocery and began vaguely noted the emptiness of the building. A few sleepy teens leaned against the register and a janitor using his mop as a microphone was serenading the imaginary audience with a ragged rendition of "Piano Man".
He winced at the caterwauling and loosened his scarf a bit with a tug. It was warmer than he had realized and the uncomfortable hotness was becoming unbearable. The milk was in the back of the store so he picked his way through the narrow isles giving a cursory glance at the shelves of packaged food. The janitors off pitch cries could still be heard clearly through the stacks of boxes and the professor winced at the faintly horrifying sound. The cooler case that housed the milk came into view and his steps increased their tempo as the idea of escaping from the yowling came closer. He reached a out to grasp the door and saw a sight that he dreaded.
There was no milk in the case.
His jaw felt unhinged. No milk?
Just as he was about to turn in near despair back to his car, a movement caught his eye. Something was moving behind the metal shelves. He leaned in close to the door, his breath fogging up the glass, to peer into the frigid room and saw her.
She was a small woman -no taller than 5'5"- and in her early twenties, if he had to guess. Her brown hair was short, and had teal-blue highlights around her bangs. She had on a green wool sweater that had sleeves that hung down well over her hands. She wore light blue jeans with holes in the knees and tennis shoes that had definitely seen better days. Her eyes were closed and her skin was a pale white color. The chill of the room had tinted her cheeks a rosy pink and her lips a chapped red.
But what caught his attention was that she was dancing as though she had no cares in the world, her lips moving along with the words. She spun with the gracefulness of ballerina, but with the smooth slide of a modern dancer. Her MP3 player was in the back pocket of her jeans and the connected headphones covered her small ears. He could almost feel the beat of the music that she was dancing to, just by the rhythm of her movements.
He was entranced.
She spun around and opened her eyes for a moment and saw him standing there. A sudden YELP left her and she tumbled over the cartons of milk surrounding her, and lost her balance. The professor jumped backwards and ran to the refrigerator door and yanked open the handle. She lay there, her cheeks an even brighter red from embarrassment and gaped at him.
"Sorry!" He gasped out, offering her a hand up which she took gratefully. "I just wanted some milk! I didn't mean to startle you!"
She just looked at him with a blank expression for a moment before her face cracked a lopsided grin. She waved a hand around her and said: "How much do you want?"