Thrift Store 2/14/2011

I was trying to write something for my creative writing class and so this small drabble came about. I don't know where I was going with this (I say this a lot). I do really want to write a story about a thrift store some day. Actually, a collection of stories about life in a small town, the kind no one really notices. I plan on titling it "My Life and Times at the Laundromat" or something similar

~

The store was decorated with fake flowers. Ugly roses in unnatural shades failed to make Salvation Thrift look like anything but a rundown thrift store. Mary loved them, though, so I didn’t say anything, just kept sweeping. She was behind the counter humming a gospel as she waited for the rare customer. Usually we were only busy during the first of the month when the welfare checks flowed in from our own pockets. I could put that money to better use than on hideous blue dishes from the 70s or lightly stained T-shirts.

“Adele,” Mary called, her voice cheery, as usual.

I walked to the counter, leaning the broom on one of the tables of knick-knacks. “What’s up?” I asked, wiping my hands on my jeans.

She was wiping a glass from Florida. Things like that were a waste of money. They seemed a good idea when standing in a souvenir stand on the beach, but then you got home and realized how tacky the palm trees really were. The glass then ended up here for a brief stint before retiring to the dumpster. “Do you know what day it is?”

Honestly, no I didn’t. Sometime in February, obviously, but days start to blend together when you have nothing to look forward to. I checked my phone. “February 14^th,” I stated. Huh, Valentine’s Day.