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Life In a Department Store |
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I once came upon a man who lived in a department store. He was a very strange person who would
voluntarily only come out at night.
The only person the man had ever spoken to was his mother and he
neither fully remembered nor acknowledged this fact. The time he would spend not in the store
was in vents sleeping and listening to the light music from inside the store. He once saw a woman in the
lingerie section of the store that he thought of as a dream. He had never seen a person he wanted to
love, that he wanted to meet. He
always thought of that moment as it had never happened and that he saw the
image in the electronics section. But
he never noticed the urges any human being should have. He was mostly interested in the cookery
section; I believed he liked the shiny material and not the actual activity
of cooking until one night. He went
to the cookery section with his tattered childhood blanket and picked one the
non-stick pans. He plugged the pan
into a wall and took a type of animal he had probably found in the
ventilation system. The way he cooked
the animal was as if he was trained in this field, the way he threw spices,
the way he moved the pan, and the way he lightly added oil to the
animal. This Neanderthal of a person
was cooking a meal and nonchalantly went back to his bed of lint and went to
bed. The next night when he emerged he
looked more frazzled than usual and emerged from the store. He walked around the barren and cold
parking lot and simply waved his hands.
He slept outside that night underneath the shade of a dumpster lid. The next day he wandered the
diminutive town looking for someone to recognize him and wandered into
shelter. He retired his frayed attire
and got a new outfit. Wandering around
the town for a miniscule amount of time he eventually went back to the store. He is now the chief security guard
at that department store. He still
lives in that vent. He has also
picked up a hobby over the 8 years he has worked there, writing about his past… |
