If You Were To Ask Me, I Think The Most Haunting Question Is...

Under no circumstances I was going to start analyzing this situation—not because I couldn’t find an answer (or better said a solution) but because everything was so absurdly arbitrary there was no place to start. The prices were relative and she was being charged the same way.

I only had two things objectively clear.

First: she had absolutely no idea that none of this was functioning the way it should, and who-knows-what kind of miracle kept this place running.

To clarify: I wasn’t doubting about her intelligence. I need to make the distinction between intelligence and street smarts.
Intelligence could be recognizing that for three years I always came in at exactly the same time—though that could also be obsession, and if the obsession was directed at me, I didn’t mind.

Street smarts would be recognizing that the merchandise supplier—I assume one of those guys with a stained ledger from March 3rd of some ages-ago year and a pen behind his ear—was charging her whatever he wanted, which had triggered this whole chain.

Correction: chains are connected links. Here there was nothing connected.

Second: I just analyzed what I said I wasn’t going to analyze because everything was absurdly arbitrary—which, by elimination, includes me in the store’s ecosystem.

It’s interesting, this kind of train of thought while I click Start.
Games.
Minesweeper.
And the first click, top right corner, is against all odds, a mine.

“Can you get out of my chair?” She tried to push me with the tip of the mop handle. “No playing during work hours.”

“I wasn’t playing.”

“Is that Minesweeper?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a game.”

“But I wasn’t playing.”

“You were using a game, something recreational. In theory, that’s playing.”

“In theory… not in practice…” I said, giving up the chair after a couple of pokes.

“In practice you should be working.”

“Everything’s organized.”

“Yes.”

“Everything’s clean.”

“Correct.” She sat down and stretched her arm expecting me to take the mop. With her free hand—as always—picked up her phone.

“Nyocery Store is still hiding under the fridge.”

“Cat, Tanaka. The cat is hiding under the fridge.”

“Fine, the cat…” I exhaled, taking the mop. “What other work is left then?” I asked while walking to the bathroom to put the mop away.

I took my time in the bathroom.
Washed my face twice and did that stupid thing of staring at my own reflection while questioning every single choice I’ve made in my life. I even got to questioning my parents for—surely in a moment of euphoric passion—deciding to have unprotected sex, which led to my existence. Imagining that is disgusting.

I’m talking about my parents having sex, not my existence.

I hadn’t noticed that next to the door where the cleaning supplies went there was a locker. Logically, that locker held Kiri’s belongings, and following that thought, what was inside was, at the very least, private.
Of course thinking all that didn’t stop me from opening it.

Let’s do it in sequence: redundant, redundant, not so redundant, definitely shouldn’t be touching this, and… what the hell is going on?

Makeup, eyeliner, nail polish, several lipsticks (that looked identical to me).

A toothbrush, strawberry-flavored toothpaste—very adult of her, sarcastically speaking.

An extra shirt hanging on the hook, open, revealing a red bra with black lace and… I’m going to stop describing it because not only shouldn't, but because it’s already burned into my mind and that’s more than enough.

Photos of her taped to the inside of the locker door, ranging from childhood to adolescence. Curious: the backgrounds looked familiar but I couldn’t place why.
Even more curious: in the photos it was only her, and they looked like they’d been taken with a camera timer rather than by another person.

Last but not least, at the bottom: a rolled up sleeping bag and a pillow with an emoji pattern slip.

[You’ve been in there more than 15 minutes. What are you doing? (≖_≖ )]

[You know you can’t just ask someone 'what are you doing' when they’re in the bathroom, right?]

[I can ask. I don’t like my employee wasting my money by slacking off.]

[Do you want me to send you a pic of the toilet or what?]

[( ,,⩌'︿'⩌,,)]

[That was a joke…]

[I know. Just get out of the bathroom already.]

[As you wish, boss!]

[(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)]

I flushed the toilet—because after something like that, and considering how everything echoed inside the store, no one, not even her, was going to inquire further. I wet my hair a little just in case the previous excuse wasn’t enough, tried to make my face as neutral as possible, and walked out like nothing happened.

“I need a marker and a very large piece of paper.” I said as I approached the counter, propped my elbows on it, and rested my chin in my palm. For some reason—probably quick adaptation—she didn’t react to it.

“Does it have to do with the bathroom?”

“What? No, god, what do you think I did?”

“I don’t want to think about the question because then I’ll have to think of an answer, which requires using my imagination.” She said while watching videos on her phone.

“Do you have them or not?”

“Marker yes. Paper, in theory, yes.”

“What do you mean ‘in theory’?”

“Orange cardstock.” She said, pulling it from under the counter. “Want them or not?”

“What were you going to do with this?” I asked, looking the sheets of cardstock. I’ll point out she had a very good hand for crafts… even if it was cutting cat silhouettes.

“Decorate the store for Halloween.”

“With kittens drawings?”

“They’re witch cats. Don’t you see the hats?”

“Of course… no… I hadn’t noticed…” I answered, looking away to keep myself from laughing. “Do you have tape?”

“Do you think this is an office supply…?” She lifted only her eyes to look at me. “Yes.”

I needed to occupy my head with something—not just because of what had happened, but because I had no idea how she was going to pay me, if she planned to, or if she even could.
So I had no choice but to be the one to start turning the gears a little.

I checked the products with the nearest expiration dates, noted them in my phone, moved them to the front of each shelf. The ones for the refrigerator I put at the bottom so they hold on a bit longer. Then I taped the posters—the witch cats, rather—to the inside of the display window.

I didn’t want to ruin the drawings, so I improvised speech bubbles and wrote all the marked products as on discount.

I stood there for a while admiring what I’d done, like someone who just painted a masterpiece. Meanwhile, in the window reflection, I could see Kiri wasn’t paying the slightest attention.

“So?” I asked, pointing at the window. “What do you think?”

“You can’t see the street.”

“That’s not the point. The idea is to attract customers.”

“I have customers.”

“We need more customers.”

“Agreed, but for now I’m deducting 1.95 for the cardstock.”

“At least it’s the cheapest thing you’ve let me have…” I answered, walking back to the counter.

“Per sheet.”

“Damn swindler…” I said, though honestly I laughed saying it. Seriously, I may not be the brightest bulb on the street, but I knew she wasn’t some economical leech (in other words a regular employer). She was… just her.

“Do you have the supplier’s number?”

“Of course.”

“Can you give it to me?”

“What for?”

“The question is obvious.”

“If it were obvious I wouldn’t be asking.”

“You asking something so obvious is what worries me.” I said, extending my hand.

For a moment she seemed to bring the piece of paper closer, but instead she put it back in the counter drawer. “I can ask a non obvious question if you want.”

“Gladly. Why do the cats point in opposite directions? Why are the speech bubbles crooked? Surprise me.” I said, trying to sound like a drama king.

“Do you enjoy checking through my things behind my back, Tanaka?”