Shared Insanity Recontextualized Into Mundane Absurdity

Sleeping after that wasn’t easy.
Not replying to the message wasn’t easy either.

After a battle won, the Greeks usually didn’t celebrate because they believed that after a victory came a defeat—or something worse. It’s not relevant, it’s just a way to explain things and helps me get through the morning without analyzing how many spoonfuls of coffee I put in.
Two.
Two spoonfuls—not because I want to, but because it has to last.

Seeing her every day?
Working with her?
All of that pointed to more intimacy, maybe another date, maybe something more.

Maybe I should focus on being competent for once instead of remembering the way she took off her socks before lying down on the blanket next to me… which… I’m doing right now.

Right now, after changing my hairstyle three times, searching for where I left my only plain shirt, and walking to the store.
As always
This time an hour and forty-five minutes earlier.

“Good mor—” My greeting vanished when I saw the state of the store. Broken liquor bottles, scattered packages, toppled shelves. The word I’m looking for to describe it is: post apocalyptic.

“Good morning.” Kiri answered from her chair, as always. “Shall we start with the questions?”

“What questions?”

“The interview.”

“You told me to work here.”

“I didn’t say there wouldn’t be an interview.”

“That’s u— Ah… never mind, go ahead, ask.” I wasn’t really paying much attention to her. I was still processing the state of the store and trying to figure out why she didn’t seem to care. “Did something happen?”

“Define ‘something.’”

“Your fingers are covered in Band-Aids.”

“Ah. The cat.”

“Nyocery Store?”

“No, now demoted to ‘The Cat.’” She barely lifted her eyes to check under which shelf it had hidden.

“What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did something? I’m the wounded and the store took the worst part.”

“Fine, let me rephrase: What did you do to make things end up like this?”

“Are you blaming the victim?”

“Kiri.”

“... I tried to put a collar on him.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised…” I commented while pulling out my phone. [Are you okay?]

“He’s my cat. He’s supposed to have a collar like other cats.” She answered while typing. [It hurts… (╥﹏╥)]

“Want me to start cleaning?”

“I haven’t even hired you yet…” She pulled a couple of sheets from under the counter. “First I want to ask you some questions.”

“Okay… I think the best thing would be to tidy this up first, but whatever.” I commented, standing in front of the counter and—of course—glancing at the sheets.

“No one comes at this hour anyway. That can wait. Shall we begin?”

“No one comes at any hour…” I muttered under my breath.

“Did you say something?”

“No, no. Let’s start.”

“Very well, then…” She made an exaggerated noise straightening the sheets against the counter. “Why are you applying to a local store?”

“You asked me to.”

“Redundant. I want a clear answer. Elaborate.”

“Fine… I’m a person with high adaptability, I get along easily with coworkers, I have a good work attitude, and I’m always open to overtime.” I said, trying not to sound sarcastic while monologuing.

“Completely fictional.”

“Look who’s talking…”

“Excuse me?” She stood up from the chair.

“Those sheets are blank. You think I didn’t notice? Did you really plan any of this?”

“Take the broom and start cleaning…” She sat back down. Maybe it was the morning light or the way sunny days after rain always seem brighter, but her face had a rosier tone.

“Okay, it’s the first time I’ve gotten a job this fast… Uhm… where do you keep the cleaning stuff?” I asked, still confused by the mess.

“Inside the bathroom, though the broom is…” She searched with her finger and pointed at the dairy refrigerator. “There.”

“How did it end up there?”

“The cat refused to come down.”

“And you tried to get him down by broom-whacking?”

“Of course not…” She exhaled and picked up her phone. I was starting to wonder how long that thing’s battery lasted. “I threw it at him.”

“You threw the broom at the cat? And you’re the victim?”

“Watch your tone when speaking to your boss.”

I had zero intention of continuing the argument, so in what I would call the greatest feat of physical dexterity in my entire life, I managed to grab the broom from atop the refrigerator without breaking anything.

I started gathering the glass shards by hand—because if I used the broom, some fragment could get stuck in the bristles.
I righted the shelves and put the merchandise back in place before going to the bathroom for the mop to clean up the spilled liquor and a dustpan for the glass.

When I came out of the bathroom, she had already removed all the merchandise and was reorganizing it.

“Are you organizing by price or by brand?” she asked while moving things.

“By… color…” I answered.

“What function does that serve?”

“Honestly…” I rubbed my temple with the edge of the broom handle. “Honestly, no idea…”

“Fine. Organize by price related to brand and secondary brand.”

“How am I supposed to do that if I don’t even have a price list?”

“Set the prices yourself.” She answered, walking toward the counter.

“Wait—nothing here has a price?”

“Not yet.”

“What do you mean ‘not yet’?”

“Usually the price varies depending on the customer.”

“How do you pay suppliers? How much profit do you make? How hasn’t this place gone bankrupt yet?” I asked, approaching the counter. This time she didn’t flinch or move away.

“They just come, ask for money, I pay, and they leave the merchandise.” She answered, tilting her head a little.

“How much money do they ask for, Kiri?”

“That’s administrative information.”

“Kiri, how much money do they ask for?” I asked, bringing my face closer to hers.

To someone not there it might look like a pseudo-romantic approach, but no—absolutely not. I was just trying to understand how the hell any of this worked.

“There’s no fixed amount. It varies every time they come…” She answered, lowering her gaze back to her phone.

“You never asked them for a price list? Or what they charge wholesale?”

“They never told me they had one…”

“Okay… okay… no problem… let’s stay calm…” I muttered while wringing the mop.

“I’m calm.” She answered.

I understand the employee-boss dynamic perfectly, but if I’d stuck to that role without issues I wouldn’t have ended up unemployed.
If I hadn’t ended up unemployed, I wouldn’t have had enough time for this kind of 'whatever you want to call it' with Kiri.
So that employee-boss role mattered basically nothing to me.

“You mop. I’m going to check price lists online.” I said, setting the mop aside and crossing to the other side of the counter.

“The boss doesn’t clean.”

“Who cleaned up until, I don’t know, yesterday?”

“Me.”

“So?”

“Yesterday I was owner. Today I’m also the boss.”

I tried every possible way not to throw a pack of candies at her and tried to relax. The day was just starting… peculiarly Greek.

“Just… please, handle that, okay?”

“Agreed… I’ll note your performance in cleaning matters.” She said, crossing to the other side and taking the mop.

“You don’t even note prices, for god’s sake…” I muttered, sitting in her chair.

I turned on the computer, waited a long time for it to boot. Apparently this thing was a relic—and I was being generous with the term.

I tried to open the browser.
I was greeted by the dinosaur mini-game.

Refreshed the page.
Dinosaur.
Refreshed again.
Dinosaur again.

“Kiri.”

“Yes?”

“The internet’s gone.”

“That computer doesn’t have internet connection.” She said while mopping under one of the refrigerators as Nyocery Store—perhaps still with PTSD—tried to scratch the mop.

“Why do you have a computer with no internet?”

“I watch movies on DVD.” She answered, trying to wrest the mop from Nyocery Store, who had already claimed it.

“Fine… everything can be solved, just take it easy…” I said, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

“You talk like there’s a problem, Tanaka.”

“Of cour—!” I bit my thumb to avoid a full breakdown. “Can you tell me how many people come in per day?”

Kiri managed to recover the mop and went to leave it in the bathroom along with the dustpan—all without saying a word.
I heard the faucet running, so she was probably washing her hands. It was strange how much you could hear inside the store—not strange in a weird way, but because there was never silence.

“At least three.” She answered when she came out of the bathroom.