Post by DEBRA FLORENCE FISCHINGER on Feb 11, 2011 10:01:42 GMT -5
'cause i know that you feel me somehow.
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300,true] There was a band playing. She should have known. Aside from the fact that it dealt with where she worked, she probably would have seen the numerous flyers that had been posted to every coverable surface. Several of the members of the band, specifically the rather gorgeous bassist, had been in an out constantly the past couple of days. Of course, none of this had clicked to her. Events were typical, and the young men who formed the group seemed like the typical sort to peruse the dusty shelves of the used books section. It was only when she had arrived for her shift that evening that she realized why everybody had been trying to get away from their hours. She had only stepped in the door when she noticed the chairs arranged in their usual location, and there was a peculiar amount of customers inside. Her manager was frantically ushering people about, unable to decide on a location. She froze for a moment. It was only when she saw a guitar case off to the side that she began to fully comprehend what exactly was going on inside the store. She was surprised that nobody had really spoken to it, but seeing the way the manager was so frazzled, it didn't seem too outlandish. There was no need to make him feel more miserable than he would undoubtedly be. Deb quickly dropped off her belongings behind the scenes, before gently prodding her way through the crowd to find her manager. "Debra! Thank goodness somebody is here. Annette left fifteen minutes ago, and I've been in shambles since!" People wouldn't assume that words like that came from a man in his thirties, but Debra had learned quickly that her manager wasn't exactly the most typical guy. She managed to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's alright, sir. I'll get any customers rung up and make sure that things aren't in too much of a mess." She quickly flashed a smile before losing him in the faceless group, attempting to get to a place to check out. The girl who stood behind the counter looked relieved to see somebody else on shift, but it didn't last long before she was ringing out customers. Debra steered a few people in the direction of another cash register before submerging herself in her work. She was in her element in here. It was the off-beat, slightly unusual book store. She even looked the part, her ruffled navy blue shirt, jeans, and moccasins. A crocheted cap was perched on her head, and she fussed with it between helping patrons. An hour and a half into her shift, things were slowing down. The band had begun playing. The sounds of acoustic guitar poured over the Rabbit Hole. She found more and more people drawing themselves closer to the musicians, as if these young adults had their very own gravitational pull. When Debra was content that the other girl on shift had everything under control, she closed her register and moved on to help out another portion of the store. Her fingers traced over the spines of the used books section, her eyes focused directly ahead. A stack of books had been left on a small table off to the side, and some of these were certainly in the wrong place. Deb rolled her eyes. Why did people feel the need to leave everything out? She held them to her chest before moving down the aisle, her head bobbing slightly in time to the music. They weren't complete trash, she had to admit. She had seen worse groups perform inside the Rabbit Hole. A small smile found her face as she greeted the patrons she moved past, but they were too busy to really pay attention. She began to place the objects in their proper locations, before one tripped her up. "Shit," she muttered with a slight frown. She hadn't been able to put one of these books where it was supposed to go last week, so she had left it out and told someone. Either it was a popular novel, or that person had just been too lazy to put it away. Her head tilted to one side as she peered at where she was certain it was supposed to go. On top of the book case. She found the proper section, and could even see where the author fell in terms of the alphabet. "I can't reach that high." Her shoulders sagged for a moment, before she sighed, still pouting. Deb rose on to her tip-toes, trying to extend her arm to the proper length. Still frowning, she attempted to fumble the paperback into place. One of her hands found the shelf in front of her, as if that would be able to help her reach above her head. "Come on. Seriously?" She was positive she was receiving a few strange looks from potential customers. Here she was, practically talking to herself as she attempting and failed to place a book on a shelf. Where was that gorgeous bassist when she needed him? tag: open! words: 850? lyrics: iris by the goo goo dolls. notes: anyone want to help her out? =3 |
