W7: Weak or "Too Weak for Her"

From V7:
"Thanks... Danny," she read over her glasses. "I'm guessing you're not a walker," she winked. "I'll see if I can't find it myself."

A step toward the sales floor and another customer's books slammed onto the counter, stopping him. He swiped the books' black bar codes in a sudden fury, ignoring the chatter of the decked-out baseball enthusiast he was ringing up. With one eye, he watched the old lady nimbly pick her way through the Saturday browsers toward the back of the store. The crinkly fabric of her track suit sparkled the harsh overhead lights.

I'm so fucking weak, he thought, raising a hand to the departing fanatic and his collector's books. I can't even stare down an old lady in the store.


******

An interruption on behalf of "W"

Why
Where
Whippersnapper
What-not
Wallaby
West
Weak
Week
Water
Wanton
Wave
Went
Warrant
Wax
Wattle
Wind
Wedgewood
Whiff
Whine
Worry
Wig
Wane
Waft
Woman
Wrought
Woof
...26....
Wend
Wattage
Wedding
Whistle
Wed
Work
Worst
Written
I can't believe I'm only getting to this now, but...
Write
...35...
Wallop
Wagamama
Whore
Wraith
Western
Weep
Wyvern
...42... (I'm out of practice. "W" should be easy!)
Waterford
We
Wallow
Wade
Widget
Whippet
Waterfall
What

There we go. "Ws" for days!

W7: There is no W

From V7:
"Thanks... Danny," she read over her glasses. "I'm guessing you're not a walker," she winked. "I'll see if I can't find it myself."

Since there is no "W", tomorrow, I'll do 26 "w"s and Friday, W7, as planned.

V7: Voice or "Even Old People Call Danny Fat"

From T7:
Danny began punching "unitarian" into the key word search on his computer. He was tempted to send her to the information kiosk, but with the economy, they were short-staffed, and he was better off keeping customers happy from his perch. If he looked too idle, Solange might make him wander the store like a predator on the hunt. "Unitarian..." he said aloud as he typed, so she would know he was working on her issue even though he wasn't meeting her eyes. She was one of those mall walkers he saw every morning. "3 Circuits," he was pretty sure, meant she was in really good shape.

"So you're a walker?" He kept his eyes on the screen. Unicorn. Unitard.

"Clearly." Her voice was low and gritty, twisted with leftover yiddish or hebrew or something.

"Unitarian!" He announced. "Looks like we don't have much." He looked her over, noticed how fit she was, feeling a bit jealous. "You can try the 'Spirituality' section, I guess." He pointed over her head at the back corner of the store.

"Thanks... Danny," she read over her glasses. "I'm guessing you're not a walker," she winked. "I'll see if I can't find it myself."

U7: Unitarian or "Danny Makes a Friend"

From T7:
"Marina," he started, catching the time above him, still avoiding the look on her face. Two minutes to go. He still wanted a Cinnabon and a Coke, and he wasn't going to let her see him scarf it down. "I do love you, but my break's over. I have to go."


*****


Back from his break, Danny was behind the register for the afternoon, the taste of cinnamon and sugar dancing on his lips. He loved it there, the stillness masked as focus, the neat rows of twee gift books and book lights that he could arrange, and rearrange, without leaving his small stool. He could doodle on the Houghton Mifflin note pad. His mornings shelving and re-shelving exhausted him more and more.

Danny's heart was still racing from the meeting with Marina. He'd barely managed to push her into Crate & Barrel before dashing for the cinnamon roll and soda that were his only, best reward. He was still finding sticky spots on the sides of his fingers, but knew he couldn't ask for a break, again, so soon, to wash his hands, so he surreptitiously wiped his hands on his jeans.

As he looked up from his grooming, a short, gray-haired woman with large glasses and a larger nose stepped up to the counter, peering closely into his eyes.

"Do you have any Unitarian books?" She asked. "I've been all over the Religion section and a I can't find a thing. My daughter's 'converting' or something, she says, and I need to figure this out." Her hands toured the knick-knacks constantly as she spoke. She was wearing a track-suit and the "3 Circuits" button pinned to her chest.

Danny began punching "unitarian" into the key word search on his computer. He was tempted to send her to the information kiosk, but with the economy, they were short-staffed, and he was better off keeping customers happy from his perch. If he looked too idle, Solange might make him wander the store like a predator on the hunt. "Unitarian..." he said aloud as he typed, so she would know he was working on her issue even though he wasn't meeting her eyes. She was one of those mall walkers he saw every morning. "3 Circuits," he was pretty sure, meant she was in really good shape.

T7: Turtle or "Danny Can't Do It"

From S7:
And he also felt foolish. They had, essentially, broken up the night Roddy died on the wet road back to Richmond. Danny had, essentially, decided he didn't want to be with Roddy anymore. So Roddy was gone - isn't that what he'd secretly, deep below the surface in the cold tanks inside, wanted? Thank God he hadn't told anyone what he'd been thinking before he got the news. And now, he never would. He shifted his stance. He wanted a Coke. He couldn't look Marina in the eye.

"But Danny, you can't hide away like a turtle in this... mall!" They looked around together - at the faux-wood kiosks selling spinning colored toys and translation software, at the abstract-but-comforting "sculpture" hanging from the sky-lit ceiling 100 feet above. Danny was hurt, again. He actually loved this mall. It's shell was solid and inside there was food and warmth.

"Marina," he started, catching the time above him, still avoiding the look on her face. Two minutes to go. He still wanted a Cinnabon and a Coke, and he wasn't going to let her see him scarf it down. "I do love you, but my break's over. I have to go."

S7: Slippery or "Danny Can't Explain"

From R7:
"No. No, Danny. Talk to me. You lost Roddy, who you weren't happy with anyway. You quit your job." Here it comes, he thought, "and you've gained- I don't even know how much weight." She actually started laughing when she said that. Through tears. At her audacity, he guessed. "What the hell's going on?"


He felt slippery on the glossy marble floor of the mall, the waves of geriatric walkers huffing cheerily past. He felt unmoored; from Marina, from his family, from his life before Roddy died.

And he also felt foolish. They had, essentially, broken up the night Roddy died on the wet road back to Richmond. Danny had, essentially, decided he didn't want to be with Roddy anymore. So Roddy was gone - isn't that what he'd secretly, deep below the surface in the cold tanks inside, wanted? Thank God he hadn't told anyone what he'd been thinking before he got the news. And now, he never would. He shifted his stance. He wanted a Coke. He couldn't look Marina in the eye.