Time and Flowers

It is 4:39 am. Meredith knows because she’s been checking her watch every thirty seconds, maybe as some kind of attempt to break the monotony that is Grumble Bee in the wee hours of the morning. She’s working the night shift, something that she dreads most in the world. The only thing that comes close to beating it is the buzzing of the frogs outside, a blanket of noise that has covered the town for the past few weeks. Inside the store it’s muted, but when the doors open the cacophony floods in, filling every unswept crevice of the building. To make matters worse, Meredith’s uniform is far too tight, having shrunk in the wash. Though her frame is petite, standing at 5’2 with narrow shoulders and hips, it is no match for the restrictive material. The last customer had been around 2:30 am, so the only company Meredith has had for the past two hours has been the frogs outside. Obviously, being not much company at all, Meredith resorts to switching between checking her watch and pulling at the fabric of her vest.  

The silence breaks at 5:02 am, at the sound of the front doors sliding open and the whirring of ribbets. In a walks a woman, seemingly in her early 20s, carrying heels in one hand and her phone in the other. When she walks past, Meredith can see smudged mascara under her eyes. She recognizes her from around town, Rose. She disappears into an aisle and returns a few minutes later with a 5 hour energy tucked inside the straps of her heels. She reminds Meredith of the kind of women her ex likes, the kind he gets infatuated with quickly, the kind that makes him break promises, vows. She is young and pretty, things Meredith is not. She tries focuses on the uncomfortable stretch of her vest against her torso. The encounter passes quietly, and then Rose is out the door, walking barefoot into the outside havoc.