Made of Plastic | Becca & Sasha
âTHIS IS FULL OF LIES,â Becca shouted, tossing her phone carelessly onto the counter.Â
There was still an hour until close at AKF, but no one was in the store and, Becca had commented earlier, no one was likely to. It was cold and rainy and you werenât going to go out in this weather unless you had to. So Becca had spent the downtime doing what she always did: stalking people on social media.Â
Today, it had been Rachel Lloyd.Â
Sheâd friended her several years ago for the sole purpose of stalking her. Sheâd once hoped that sheâd find some dirt that she could pass on to Seth and shatter the perfect image he had of Rachel in his head.Â
So far, so such luck.Â
Sheâd been excited a few minutes ago, when she realized that Rachel had just been tagged in a bunch of photos at a bar. She knew that a bad picture wouldnât change Sethâs mind, but it would make Becca feel better about herself. Sheâd eager scrolled through every single one, but not one was bad. Not one.Â
âHow is she real?â Becca groaned, âSheâs literally perfect in every. single. one. Sheâs like the Barney Stinson of Virginia Beach. Incapable of taking a bad picture. And I bet you sheâs wasted in all of these. How is that possible to look that good, when you are completely drunk and in horrible lighting?â
She exhaled, frustrated, âLetâs just bring up some selfies I took from last night for a comparison,â She said, picking her phone up again and, standing close to Sasha, began to look through them. âI am an actual trash bag in all of these âŚÂ â
Slow days were Sashaâs favorite days. Not that she didnât love of job. She did. Sasha loved meeting new people and recommending her favorite books to them. She loved hearing the opinions of other reads. Mostly, she just loved talking about books.
But talking about books was second only to actually reading them. And on slow, rainy days, Sasha loved nothing more than curling up in one of the storeâs many cozy arm chairs or sitting on the counter while she chatted with Becca.
On this particular slow day, Sasha had collected a stack of old Hemingways and was flipping through them, finding her favorite passages and reading them aloud. This seemed fun only for her as Becca was, yet again, torturing herself on Facebook.
She started at Beccaâs first outburst. At her second, Sasha hopped off the counter, marking her place in A Farewell to Arms with a rumpled business card.
Patting Becca on the shoulder, Sasha looped an arm around her as she relieved her of her phone. âWhy do you do this to yourself, Bex? Why do you torture yourself like this? If social media had been around in Jane Austenâs day, do you think Marianne Dashwood wouldâve stalked Mr. Willoughby on Facebook?â She paused, realizing Marianne probably wouldâve, before quickly adding, âThatâs probably a bad example. But still.â
She sighed, looking through Beccaâs photos. âYou know what I see here? A cute, adorable, confident women who is better than Rachel Lloyd any day.â
Dropping her phone back into Beccaâs hand, she squeezed her shoulder and hopping back onto the counter. âHeâll come around, Bex. He will. Just give him time. After all, Edmund Bertram wasnât moved in a day. And Seth Connors likely wonât be either.â
She looked up suddenly, a new thought forming. âOr maybe we just need to find Mary Crawford a new target...â










