Old People and Rotting Fruit
The day starts with the scent of old people and rotting fruit, the signature smell of Grumble Bee. It differs depending on the season and the day of the week (in the spring its strawberries, on Wednesdays it's Mrs. Collins dusty perfume). The scent is suffocating, filtering in through Meredith’s nostrils and settling in her bones, an extra weight that makes her slouch more into the cradle of her hip. It’s currently 9:27 a.m, and Mrs. Collins is positioned in front of the cash register, glaring down at the number printed across the small screen with squinted eyes. “It’s $68.25, ma’am.” Meredith resists a sigh, instead pushing her lips together into a tight-lipped smile. The old woman looks up, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth clear and unflattering under the harsh fluorescent lighting. She nods before reaching into her purse, pulling out crumpled receipts and expired coupons in the process of rummaging for her wallet. “You know, back in my day, you could get g...