#litcigarctte

So that’s why he found himself pushing open the door to the Ol’ Pickaxe, the only place in town where someone he knew worked. He never really interviewed for a job or put in a formal application, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. His chances might be better than he thought, given that he and the (almost) owner were familiar.

“Hey, uh...you hiring?”

Bea was always so bad at holding her tongue when it came to pretty much anything that Mae said. She immediately scowled – and just when Bea thought she was doing so well. “So… just because for you, there is ‘zero effs given’ about the topic at hand that you can just ignore it? It must be nice to glide through life when anything unpleasant happens to you and you can just avoid it because, you know, ‘zero effs given’. I wonder what that must be like.”

She couldn’t put a stop as the words spilled out, all dripping with disdain.

“What about college? Did you just decide that there were ‘zero effs given’ about it because it was just a slight inconvenience to you?”

“Sorry to drop in on such short notice. I feel like I have not seen enough of you.”

Things weren’t even that busy. He woke up, went to work, and came home, usually. Sometimes that was divergent in that he had to do some shopping, as there was no way he was going to trust Gregg to do it. He may not have been the best at keeping up with the one main friendship he had, but he always tried checking in on her when he could. Bea was the closest friend he could say he had.

“It’s not that bad!”

     Depression was a dark slope indeed, and yet Casey found himself coming      to Bea for help. Ever since he had come back from what he was told was      his demise, Casey’s emotions had been a very slippery slope; he always      ended up feeling ill, he was seeing things out of the corners of his eyes,      such terrifying things they were, and his nightmares were plagued by very      horrific sights that always lingered and showed themselves when he closed      his eyes.

“...Yeah, I suppose there is. I’ve been seeing things as of late,  horrible, terrible things that plague my mind and don’t stop  coming until I come onto the verge of tears.”

     Looking down at his hands, they’d quickly ball up as he’d squeeze his fists      tightly to the point where it hurt. He had to validate that he was still alive,      but yet despite the pain, the fact that he could feel it, he still felt so... Dead      on the inside.

He needed something to sell today, and his brother’s construction crew was running low on supplies, so stealing from them wasn’t an option. He had a buyer who was looking for construction supplies at much cheaper prices than were being offered, and Steve was the man for stuff like that. He had an idea of where he might be able to snag a hammer or a box of screws or something of the sort.

The Ol Pickaxe was a good store with a lot of supplies and, from what he saw, only a few employees. The perfect place to snag some stuff and make some quick cash. Walking in the front door casually with a cigarette in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, he gave the cashier, another gator about his age, a nice smile.

Steve would’ve liked it to get less busy around this time, but unfortunately, it might’ve been just the opposite. Which is why he was up late, here with the (almost) owner. 

“Come on, you’re not scared of anything? Not like, werewolves or vampires! Bleh! I vant to suck your blood!” He teases, wiggling his fingers at her. She had insisted nothing was scary. He doubted it though. So he grabs one of the recent electric bills she’d been looking at and held it against his forehead. “Boo!”

Oh, right. It was February. Getting closer to Valentine’s day too. Ugh. He hated that ‘holiday.’ Dedicated to what, having someone who cared about you? That’s what he hated, the notion that you were only valid if someone else cared enough to be with you. To him, it felt like he was invalid and it was a waste of time to do anything that day besides work. Who’d give a damn about him?

He finished organizing the back closet and the drawers she’d asked him to, before taking a break to light up a cigarette and hop up on the counter for a light break.

“Ugh. I just remembered. It’s February, and that means Valen-ass day is comin’ up. Always hated that holiday.”

He was talking mostly to thin air, since Bea was in the back doing her own work, but his voice was loud enough to hear.