On this particular brisk spring day, the sky was streaked white--clouds drawn out to the breaking point.
It's the breaking point all right, fumed Jonas as he hunched his shoulders inward and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His sixteen-year-old daughter had declared an emergency and requested, no demanded, that he get some cotton swabs right away.
As he marched through the parking lot to the store, he passed a redhead in a white tube top and a tight black mini-skirt. His ex had been like that at the end, flashy and easy, and he should have known better than to think that she was trying to patch things up. In fact, he should have been seeing the red flags a mile away when she started bringing home fishnet stockings and studded collars and loud makeup. And good riddance, he huffed. No responsible mother would run off with a tattooed motorcycle freak ten years her junior.
The redhead gave him a narrow-eyed glare and he quickly turned his gaze elsewhere least she thought him a freak. What's wrong with young women these days? he thought as he pushed open a door and walked into a milieu of frumpy women with toddlers, moody teenagers in baggy clothes, and clerks with fake smiles. Why don't they dress in sensible styles that don't show so much skin? Or are they so mindless as to follow the fashion on TV and lousy role models like his ex? He hoped fervently that his daughter realized that the "in style" was not for her. Otherwise, he would have to barricade her in her room before she even thought about shopping for clothes.
Jonas stalked through the aisles, eventually winding up among rows of fresh smelling lotions and feminine hygiene products. The cotton swabs were at the very end stacked above the cotton balls and cotton pads. He took one package, turned around, and nearly keeled over a shopping cart that hadn't been there a second before.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize..."
He eyed the lady in charge of the cart. Shoulder-length hair, wide eyes, laugh lines around her generous mouth. A looker all right, but he didn't buy her excuse. Women who ran people down with shopping carts were a threat to society. She should have been charged with reckless endangerment or whatever terminology the cops used for people who didn't drive between the lines. But with his luck, she'd only have to flutter her eyelashes and the cops would be at her feet rather than writing up a ticket.
"No problem," he found himself saying. And as she maneuvered the cart around him and he walked out of the aisle, he mentally kicked himself. The things I do to keep society running smoothly.
