by Nicole Baart
“Do you have a take-a-penny jar?” the woman asked quietly.
Alicia stared at her. “No.”
My hands went to my own pockets, but the pants were brand-new and the only thing I found was lint.
“How much was it again?” Her voice was so soft I could barely make out the words.
“Four dollars and three cents,” Alicia repeated matter-of-factly.
The woman dug a bit more, and I wanted to yell at Alicia, Just let her have it. I’ll pay you later! But I put my hand on the mop instead and looked down. I didn’t want the weary woman to think that anyone was witnessing her shame.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I heard her say, “I guess I’ll have to leave one of the apples.”
When I exhaled, I felt them both look up. Fortunately, I was half turned away from them, and the splat of my mop on the floor disguised the tail end of my wheeze.
“Whatever,” Alicia intoned.
Buttons were pushed and cash register tape whirred, and within moments the woman was gone.
“Sheesh,” Alicia said, catching my eye. “Seriously, it was like three cents. Can you believe some people?”
“No, I can’t,” I said, but she didn’t catch the arrows in my look.
I finished the floor with an almost vicious energy, but by the time the front doors were locked and we were ready to start restocking shelves, I had all but forgotten about the woman. Though she nibbled at the corners of my mind, it was easier not to focus on her. And even downright soothing to allow myself the thought that at least one person had it far worse than me.
Table of Contents
Part 1
Waiting
Janice
Signs
Good Girl
Consumed
Decrescendo
Lessons
Reconnect
Mosaic
Part 2
Departure
Entry Level
Time and Again
Initiation
Cipher
Assessment
Homecoming
Great Expectation
Free Fall
Aftermath
Nineteen
Exile
Part 3
Lighthouse
Nativity
Last Threads
Seeking
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Humility