Axel finished eating and was impatiently waiting for me to end so he could show me all his music. I was excited too, but I really couldn’t compete. I wolfed it down for him as he started telling me about some of the bands he listened to. When I was done he surprised me; he took a deep breath and leaned in close to me, placing his headphones snuggly over my head. I thought he would just unplug the cord and let it play by speaker so I was very surprised and tense when he made that move. As if I weren’t red enough. Why’d he go and do that. I soon learned why.

“Daa~” The first sung note struck through me like a lightning bolt. I instantly forgot all my prior worries, the thoughts died away from unimportance in comparison to the sound that punched my ears. Daa daa daa-ah, da.” The voice ascended ever so slowly, then drooped. Lyrics came; real and authentic, meaningful lyrics. Lyrics you’d never hear on the radio; a song that wasn’t about love, or money, or drugs, or girls. The song didn’t consist of one repeated phrase sung in different techno waves. It wasn’t a song made for fame or fortune, you could tell, the tune wasn’t meant to be played at some bar where the listeners were all too drunk to care for music quality. This was poetry in the form of a melody. A song the singer’s soul was steeped into.

“[insert symbolic, life-changing, world-building lyrics about the sky]” was a line/verse that stuck out to me. The lyrics came from my left side and the ascending daa’s rose and fell on my right. I don’t know if it was a conscious decision on the maker’s part, to feed me the lyrics through the side closest to my heart, but it worked. The words reached my heart stronger than any song I had ever heard before. I didn’t know headphones could be so powerful, now that I think of it… this was the first time I was listening to music through headphones.

“That was beautiful.” I whispered. I was so lost in a music-brimmed world for the entire duration of the song that I forgot where I was and who was there to listen. When I opened my eyes, I saw Axel giving me another wide-eyed grin.

“I know right? Here try this one.” He scrolled down with many sped-up thumb swipes and tapped his screen for a new song. I think I was developing a new found joy for seeing his amusement. While the headphones began conjuring some more magic into my ears I managed to sustain eye-contact with him as he fanboyed to me about the amazingness of this masterpiece. It was hard to connect this boy before me to the same one who sword-fought a terrorist, “Did you hear the guitarist there? It sounds like there’s another but he’s just using a two-neck guitar flawlessly. That reminds me, there’s this one song where the guitar sounds like a saxophone! He switches over from generic electric guitar sounds to the saxophone one throughout the song, but wait before I show you that one-” somewhere along the line I stopped listening to his voice and kept watching his changing expressions until more music was thrown back on.

The first song he showed me was purely soul music, and the rest were all interesting combinations of different genres; rock tied to classical, festive music slid into blues, some type of a sparkly-sounding jazz, and ‘modern punk with an orchestral accompaniment’ as Axel put it - that one sounded like it belonged in a dramatic, flying car movie. They were all so new, so exotic, and strange to me, but I couldn’t express to anybody how much I loved them. Every bar, every beat, every unforgettable moment.

“And this one is gentle metal, you’d probably really like the melody in the background, since you liked...”

“Whoaa, you’re right!!! I especially loved the…”

“Yeah, not many people notice that, I’m surprised, in that case you’d appreciate this one.”

“Oh my gawd, how did she do that with her voice? It was so soothing.”

We kept a consistent smiling spree going while sharing our views on song after song. For each tune, he’d quiet down as I listened and perk back up the moment I finished. This repeated for a few more songs and after a while we were both fandom-ing about how great the music was. I got so caught up in things that I didn’t notice when he started getting sleepy.

“The violin in that one was so nice; I never expected rock to have instrumentals like that. It made me want to learn violin or piano even!” When I looked up at him, expecting an excited response and another recommendation, I saw his head bowed, and his hand unraveled loosely around his phone. His breathing was slowed and there was a calm air around him.

He fell asleep? How can anyone fall asleep in that position? And so fast?! This song was only around two minutes long and he was definitely awake when he chose it for me. I tilted my head to analyze some of his sleeping beauty, yet something about the sight was unsettling to me. Perhaps it was the trauma of having to yank bloody arrows from his back, or watching him die sometime before that, either way I didn’t want him to stay in this state.

“Um, Axel?” I hesitated.

No response, so I tried again, reaching a hand for his shoulder. I felt bad in waking him up, maybe he was just really tired, but if this sudden exhaustion was thanks to yesterday’s injury, I’d prefer if he were in bed resting than trying to entertain me.

“Axel?” I shook his shoulder a second time, adding a little more vigor. This time he gritted his teeth and took a jittery breath that sounded hoarse like he was breathing through a cloudy mesh. He remained unconscious. My worries skyrocketed. “Axel!?!”

He slumped forward and I quickly held him up. “AXEL!!!” At that moment, the door opened from behind me and as I looked back to see who, the headphones were pulled from my ears. Confused and scared, I watched his mother breeze over to his side and place his headphones back over his ears, and twist the swirly coloured cup over his left ear as she held him upright. This action must have raised the volume because I heard a low buzz of the last melody I listened to.

His mother’s expression was blank and void of emotion. This was such a huge contrast to how I was used to seeing her that it sent chills down my back.

In roughly three seconds after receiving back his headphones, Axel’s eyes fluttered open – just barely open. He immediately re-clenched his grip on his device and started scrolling in slow-motion through his playlist as if he never lost consciousness.

“Axel.” his mother called.

He flinched and slowly brought his squinted gaze up to hers. I don’t think he realized his mother was there in the room until that moment. There was a cold sweat sticking to his temples, his face was pale, and I could visibly see the strain he had in the simple task of breathing.

“You know you shouldn’t have given it away for that long. Four or five songs should have been your limit.”

He looked exhausted, but he still put up a fight for his mom and scowled, “I can still show her one more.” He looked back down to his phone and continued searching for songs.

“I wonder how many ’one more’s it would take for you to consider the danger you placed on your life.”

This conversation was scaring me. What were they talking about? What did she mean?

“Come. It’s time you rest up.” She stooped to a knee and wrapped his arm around her neck, then heaved him up. It looked like he knocked out the moment they were standing. She trudged him over to the bed and peeled the music player from his hand; on it, she played with some settings and rested it on his bedside. The outer design of his muffs swirled into a blue-purple whirlpool (eliminating the red that used to be there). Then she pulled a blanket over to his Adam’s apple and patted his hair. I watched with slight terror.

Did I cause that? Was he struggling to breathe because of something I did? Or didn’t do? Why didn’t I notice sooner? Was he really still injured from that day with the arrows? Maybe that magic I saw back then had only healed the outside of his wound and not the inside. Does that mean he was suffering all this time? And did his mother know about his injury? What did his music have to do with any of this? I didn’t really know anything about Sell-souls. What should I do? What if...

My hands were shaking violently under eachother. Flashes of his bloodied body shot over my vision like the AMVs on the internet that were made to evoke tears.

What if-

“Come with me for a sec,” His mother interrupted my freak out, “…Um, what was it again?”

“Wh- huh?”

“Your name?”

#TaintedTracks

The word “nice”.

The colour beige.

Finding “your” truth (as loopy

as it sounds).

Anything lukewarm.

Vagueness.

(no raindrops or whiskers on anything, the kettles can be whatever, and no string)

Maria rocked because she picked something and fought for it - even in war.

And she sings nice.

No one in my home knows what I am about to say nor many that know me. There are only 3 people alive who know what I am about to say. I will share it with all who read it, but this story must never be told outside of here.

When I was 14, I had this job as a nanny. I had known the family my whole life, so they werent strangers to me. I stayed at their home from. I had my own room with this big window looking out to the front yard.

It was a beautiful home with great neighbors. Down the road, maybe a block away, was this park. I took the kids to this park all of the time. Behind the park, there were train tracks for the Metra. I remember being able to see the park from my window and seeing the kids play.

The kids I was watching had this friend that would meet them at the park. One day, when it was time to go home, I met the new boy's parents. They seemed to be a happy and sweet couple. Turned out, they lived in the house behind the one I was staying in. I remember seeing the mother of the boy jogging in the morning. She passed the window every morning. Every morning except one.

This story must never be told.......

I remember feeling something was wrong. I woke up because I thought I heard something. The parents had gone off to work already, so it was just me and the kids I was watching. They were sleeping still, so I knew the noise was coming from outside. I walked to the back door and remember seeing the shadow of a woman. The mother of the boy from the park. This shadow was followed by the shadow of a man. The father. Her body fell and was no longer moving. I look to see a face, and made eye contact with the father. I remember seeing the look of madness. He looked away and quickly moved the body.

In shock, I made sure all the doors were locked and hid in my room. I didn't know what to do. I thought that I was still sleeping and tried to wake up. None of what I just saw seemed to be real. I crawled back into the bed and tried to wake up from this dream like state, but I was not sleeping.

I looked out of the window a little while later and noticed that the husband was at the park now. I watched carefully to try and figure out what he was doing. He looked scared. I watched as he dragged his wife's body to the tracks. Farther and farther away he went. He was finally out of site. I was so scared, I passed out.

I remember waking up later on to a knock at the door. At this time, I was convinced what I saw was a dream, but when I opened the door, it was the police. They were asking me about my neighbor. The mother. The one who was found in her jogging outfit on the tracks dead.

I told them a few things, but I didn't want to believe what I had seen earlier, so that was all I told them. Just I didn't see her jog passed my window that morning.

They didn't arrest the father right away. I refused to let the kids leave the house because I knew he saw me. He would stand in his backyard and seemed to wait for us to come out. When I let the dog go outside, he would wave at me, but I would keep watching the dog. Eventually I started to carry a knife to take the dog out. I felt safer that way.

When he was finally arrested, I felt relieved. The family was in shock because of what they heard, but I was and still am scared from what I have seen.

I still havent told my family. The 3 people I have told are the people I felt can handle this secret. People who I also know will probably never see me again in a year.

When I was 14, I witnessed the murder of a woman and watched her husband drag her body onto the track.

This story must never be told.........

*Inspired by the artwork of WLOP - a legendary internet artist*

A fog of snow fluttered endlessly upon an open field just outside a barren town. The snowfall was too delicate to be a storm, but too plentiful to be called a flurry; it was simply a beautiful, heavy snow.

In the midst of it all was a grand sight to behold; an angel plowed through the field taking elegant strides that seemed unnaffected by the white mounds of deceleration along her path. She was fully cloaked in a velvety black guise, armored at the torso and waist. Above her hood was a large platinum ring floating perfectly in place, and furled at her back were snowflake speckled feathers that measured down to her ankles.

"Miss, miss, look, look!"

The angel towered so high above the little boy, she almost missed his calls for attention. Once she spotted the young human she stopped and leaned towards him, her massive wings stretching and swelling over his petite frame, shielding him from the snow and providing needed heat to his impoverished lack of cold-resistant clothes.

"I'm an angel too, see?"

He pointed to the halo made of sticks above his head connected to uneven twig-wings he held at his back. "And since I'm an angel, you have to respect me." he said this with a children's pride; the type of pride a child would never hide.

The angel tucked her hands behind her back, closed her eyes and bowed. Silver hair flung out of her hood and he caught sight of her majestic youthful look. The face hidden inside was babyish with innocence yet wise with kindness, that's when the boy thought...

'hey, we don't look so different, I don't need to lie. I can really be an angel too if I close my eyes and try' so he dropped his disguise and thought real hard with valient hope and a rub of his frost-bitten toes. Then when he opened his eyes, to his surprise, he had his own feathered wings and a bronze-golden halo.

“You’re that-… you’re the-… the one who-” I stumbled over my words as recognition crossed his face too. He opened his mouth then gritted his teeth with slight fear. He marched over to me, snatched my wrist, and threw the bag he held on the counter. The smell of deep-fried foods briefly touched my nostrils.

“Come with me for a sec.” he commanded.

“Huh? Wha?” I looked confusedly from his hand on my wrist to the woman at the front desk who did nothing as he led me away. But instead of leading me out of the store, he went behind the counter. The woman had her eyes closed in an unreadable manor as she waved and smiled her goodbyes. I gawked at her while being yanked through a door. Before anything made sense, I was pulled down a hall and soon into a room…a bedroom to be specific. He let go of me.

“Sit.”

I wasn’t about to disobey him, knowing what he could do given the right reasons. I sat on the floor on top of my legs with my hands on my lap and a very shut mouth. He lifted one muff off his ear and pushed it back just behind his lobe. Then he closed the door and turned to me. They were dark eyes indeed.

He sighed and shut them. One hand rose and streamed back and forth through his already scattered hair. The next moment he was walking over to the bedside and grabbing another phone. He pulled out the one from his sweater pocket, unplugged the red wire from its head, and tossed it on the bed before plugging the cord into the new device. I had shimmied counter-clockwise on the spot to watch him. He re-approached me and flopped down, cross-legged on the floor across from me.

“Listen,”

Listening.

“You can’t just-… ” – he sighed and ruffled his hair some more – “okay, I don’t know what you were going to say out there in front of my mom, but I can’t have you talking about that incident when she’s around. As far as she knows, I wasn’t there, or fighting, or injured…This is a taboo topic. Got it?”

My mouth fell wider than wide open as I looked at him and pointed towards the door. “muh-…muh-…muh-”

Mother! I was trying to say Mother! That woman!? His mother? So did she know I was talking about her son this whole time? Even when I….called him….slightly attractive. My face went red. Redder than red. I did say those words, didn’t I? I’m really stupid enough to say those words, aren’t I?

“Got it?” he repeated, turning his intimidation meter up several notches. I nodded, still dazed. That meant this music store was his house, didn’t it? Which meant this punk-style room was his room. My head was spinning now.

“Wait but, does that mean you do all that slashing/stabbing, soul-sword-stuff without your mothers consent?! Does she not know about it at all?!”

“SSSSSSHHHHH. Shut up! You don’t know anything so shut up. Of course she knows I’m a sell-soul. It’s just that…she… she worries so…” his voice died down. “aagghh!” then shot back up, “why am I telling you this?! I don’t even know you! What are you doing here? How’d you find me?”

That’s true, what am I lecturing him for? Why did I come?

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I came here to thank you, but here I am stressing you out… I’m sorry. And also thank you, for saving my life.”

He began to get all flustered when he saw me bowing. “I-…I didn’t do it for you, I just, beat up a guy that was pissing me off. So you don’t have to-… I should be thanking you, I underestimated them. They might’ve killed me if you didn’t help.” His voice dipped down to a whisper this time. It gave me chills, because I also might’ve been killed if it weren’t for him.

“Thank you” we said together, gawked at each other in shock, and immediately turned away in search of a distraction. He scrolled hurriedly through his playlist on his phone and I looked around his room. It worked; his room was filled to the brim with distractions; band posters, music-making tech, and instruments. It was insane. There were a series of guitars cliqued together in a corner near his bed, a double keyboard in a spot suitable for a desk, and massive rack of old CD mix tapes. His room was practically the mini version of the shop outside.

Like me, Axel also managed to distract himself with the melodies on his phone. You brought me in here, take responsibility, I thought.

“So… what type of music do you listen to?” I may have recognized a few logos and stuff in his room, but I still had no idea what kind of music it was. I was guessing rock, but I could have been wrong.

He seemed stunned by my question. “…a bit of everything.” He finally said, then looked away.

“How about right now?”

“???”

“What are you listening to right now?”

“…it’s a new band that no one really knows called Unpainted Sky…” he seemed to be holding himself back from answering my questions, but he was clearly passionate about this stuff. I wanted to hear about the music he sold half his soul to.

“Can I listen?”

Again he went speechless and gawked at me. After a long awkward moment (on my part), I witnessed the birth of the most adorable, sparkly-eyed, joyous smile I’d ever seen on any human being in my entire life. He looked like a child on his way to an amusement park for the first time; a cartoon version of that. To see such a strong-willed and determined person, show such childlike happiness; the sight made me blush. I made sure to pocket that image. He wasn’t just slightly attractive anymore.

“S-sure! Okay, you can listen, if you want. Are you sure you want to hear this one? Or should I show you an even better one? Oh, I feel like you might like this one…Wait, this one!”

I couldn’t help myself, I let out a giggle. “You’re a lot more…childish than I thought.” He looked up then, and glared at me. After seeing how happy he was capable of being, this expression came across as more of a pout than anything else. I doubted I would have thought this moments ago.

He opened his mouth to say something-

A click and a whoosh later, and I heard the tattooed woman’s voice emerge from behind me. “I know riiighht?!? Isn’t he the cutest thing? You’d never expect it though, would ya?” I spun to see a similar expression of pure happiness on the face of the woman I spoke to before…

“Mom! Get out! How long have you been there?” Axel exploded.

“Not long, not long, don’t worry, I have better things to do than eavesdrop on my son. Need I remind you I have a store to run~” she sang that last part, tilting her head back like a pretend rock star while Axel shoved on her back. Many strands of her hair blanketed his face. I couldn’t help but think she could be a real rock star with her looks.

“Then go run it!” he complained.

Seeing them like this, it was hard not to notice the resemblance, but it was much harder referring to her as his mother. If anything she came across as the older sister type.

“It’s closing time.” She answered. “Plus I just wanted to know if my widdle son and his widdle fwiend wanted some dinnaaa. Which I have right here-aaah” In one quick motion she twirled and put a hand heavily on Axel’s head and pushed him down, around her, and out the door. As he stumbled away she reached to the side and picked up some plates of food resting on something I could not see, so it seemed like an act of magic.

Next, she strolled in casually and put two plates by my side. She gave me a pleasant little smile that made me feel nervous and frantic. Since I came into this building as a store, I forgot to have the required manners for entering someone’s household.

“Ah! This must have been your share; you don’t have to do that for me, really. I could just eat when I get home.” In actuality, I was far past starving; my stomach was silently dying in its final hours. I hadn’t eaten since…since…? When was the last time I ate food? I mean like real food, not the potato chips I had a few hours ago. It would’ve been before the terrorist attack yesterday… so like, 24+ hours ago.

“My share? Hahaha, you couldn’t take food from me if you fought me for it. We always buy extras, don’t worry. Besides, I’m not letting you walk home at this hour. It’s too dark out. You’re my hostage now.” She winked at me.

That word choice was too frighteningly coincidental for my liking. I tried to laugh.

“I still wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You don’t have a choice~” she sang. She was already on her way out of the room so I couldn’t dispute.

“Uh, well then, thank you for your hospitality.”

On her way out the door she turned back and smiled again. It was the smile I was beginning to fear, in the short time I’ve made acquaintance. The smile with her eyes closed and a strong sense of subtle, all-knowing power. I watched Axel glare at her the whole way out. When she was gone, he re-entered his room and shut the door. Then he stood there, facing the door.

“um-”

He held out an arm with a ‘one second’- finger on display. Moments later, there was a knock. He opened the door just enough for his mother’s hand to snake in, holding a home phone that kind of resembled a mic. “In case you need to call your parents or guardians and tell them a nice music store lady has taken you captive.”

Axel took the phone and proceeded to slam the door as his mother snakily dodged the brutal threat of a closing door. From behind the door I heard her laugh “you’re a thousand years too young to nail me Axel. Aha ha ha!”

He grumbled and tossed me the phone on his way back to his spot. I fumbled in catching it and laid it down beside me to play it cool. I really wish, she didn’t have to think about my parents. I eyed the home phone, letting all the anxiety it caused me, to build. Should I pretend to call them? Or maybe call a friend and pretend they’re my parents? Wait, what friend? Who do I think I am? I lost my last friend weeks ago. I mentally gave myself an uppercut. Then at the corner of my eye I noticed Axel staring me down.

I felt myself blush before I even peeked at him. He looked up, pretending he didn’t notice anything, and picked up his plate and chopsticks.

“Since my mom brought the food I guess we have no choice but to eat first. I’ll still show you the songs though.”

I watched him with a stunned expression. He was indirectly telling me I didn’t have to explain. I picked up my plate and started eating as well. Oh yeah, that’s right, I’m starving.

“Hey, you know my name already, but what’s yours?”

I covered my mouth and force-gulped some un-chewed food. “I’m Reiz-…… you can call me Rei”

“mmm.” He ate some more. “So, how did you find yourself in a hijacking?” his voice was lowered so I did the same – even though my answer was probably safe enough not to.

“I was looking for a job at that crappy community center, believe it or not. The one time I go there, it gets hijacked.”

“Pfft, how unlucky can you get, haha” His eyes were closed when he laughed so I was free to revel at his beauty as much as I wanted. It was an immensely attractive smile.

His adorability level was up there with puppies and penguins.

‘So how did someone so childlike end up as a sell-soul?’ In my opinion, this was a far more interesting topic, but I didn’t ask the question. Somehow, it seemed like the kind of question you weren’t supposed to ask. Instead, I continued ranting about my crumby luck. It kept him laughing anyway.

#TaintedTracks

I couldn’t find him. Many hours had passed since I first started looking in the morning. It was almost night time now and the sky had turned a purple-y shade, clearly unsure whether or not it wanted to give me more pity points via daytime safety. To make matters worse, at some point during my search… I forgot to search! My thoughts liked to do this thing where they drift so far off the stratosphere that they enter some other dimension (inside my head). I often journey to that world when I get bored or distracted by food, hunger, and/or starvation. So now I was on some unknown street on the outskirts of urban-land without food or shelter or a sense of direction. Why did I think I could find one blend-in-type-of-guy in a city setting, with zero leads on his whereabouts?

I did have my sync card with me, so it’s not like there was no hope – advantages of carrying around a pocket instead of a purse. The only problem was that I haven’t seen a shop or convenience store in the past hour. I now deeply regretted dining at a vending machine as soon as I left the hospital, as opposed to all the little cafés and fast food joints in the area. I thought I turned back to all the civilization decades ago, but I felt like I just got further away.

What time is it anyway? I dug my phone out of my sweater. Oh yeah… its dead-phone-o-clock. I forgot. If it wasn’t dead-phone-o-clock then I would’ve had a GPS running right now.

With perfect timing, my stomach grumbled. It must have been half past global sadism hour. I groaned. I should ask someone how to get out of this place before it gets fully dark. I also felt kind of faintish, like if someone were to push me over I might not get back up, it was only a minor feeling though. Still, I was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to prison-break my way out of a hospital without having an understanding of my body’s condition.

I began to look around for any sign of a potential helpful human. In my search, I discovered a sketchy gas station, a sketchy convenience store, a sketchy drug store, and then an out of place music shop named [I need a name], with an appreciated ‘open’ sign over its door. To be honest, its sketchiness level was only slightly below the rest of my options, but I needed to convince myself that this was a good idea. Therefore, it wasn’t sketchy at all.

I strolled in and a little melody broke out above me, in the form of a chime. If that didn’t already calm my nerves then gazing at everything they were selling did. There were spacious rows of vintage cassettes, classic CD’s, and digital, make-it-yourself, playlists. Along the front of the store were actual ancient phonographs. Seeing them made me feel as though I stepped into a museum accidently. Even the lighting rained down from spotlights, as one might find at a theatre of some sort.

There was a straight open path to the cashier desk, but no one was there. I allowed myself to be distracted for a while longer. In one whole corner was a small, but impressive selection of dazzling musical instruments. Guitars, keyboards, multi-coloured microphones dangling from evenly spaced wires, and a massive harp! – that I somehow missed. A shallow ramp had to be taken to get to that section of the store and extending out from the railing were folders of music scores. The glossiness of every item in that corner drew me in, inching my feet forward.

“Hi there.” I jumped out of my trance, almost screaming in the process. A tall woman holding a few boxes that blocked her face emerged from behind a counter.

“Um…h-hi.” I hesitated, though I doubt she heard me. I made my way over.

She made a little noise of exertion as she plopped the boxes down on the counter and stuck her hands on her hips. Then she peeked out at me. “Oh! Hi there. Welcome to [I REALLY NEED A NAME] it’s been a while since we’ve had new customers.”

The woman was beautiful. She had long wavy black hair that flew down to her back, two would-be side bangs looped down and around into the flow of her hair. On her left arm was a full scale tattoo of everything music related you could think of. An entire treble clef spiralled from her shoulder to her wrist, and all throughout the score were instruments and band logos and discs.

“Oh, I’m not-…” I didn’t want to be rude by staring at her tattoo forever, so I looked away, but then my eye caught sight of a wall of headphones. “…not a…uh . . . customer.”

“Really? You look like a customer to me.” She rested an elbow on the counter and sat her chin in her palm while smirking in my direction. “What can I help you with?”

I tore my vision away from the wall and mentally smacked myself. “I just need directions back to the main roads. I’m kind of lost.”

“Is that all? That’s no fun.” She checked her inner wrist watch and flicked an eye outside before continuing, “Hang on, I’ll draw you a map.” She must be closing shop soon.

She reached down for some paper and pulled a pen from her pants pocket. While she was busy, I snuck one last peek at the wall of headphones.

To be honest, until I saw that wall, I had forgotten about the guy with the headphones, AKA the guy who saved my life, and the reason I wound up here in the first place. I wonder if he shops here… I wasn’t going to ask, but I didn’t want to regret not asking. I tapped my toes indecisively on the inside of my sneakers.

All of a sudden my mouth started blurting all the things I was trying to supress. “um, do you, by any chance, have a customer with messy black hair and, lively coloured headphones with a long red cord, who wears striped wrist-warmers, and an open short-sleeved jacket, and has bags under his eyes – very dark eyes – and pretty much looks like a (slightly attractive) cyberpunk who you shouldn’t mess with…” this wasn’t a creepy observation, so I don’t know why you’d think that.

The shop owner was shocked at first by my sudden outburst – so was I – but mid-way through my rant she went back to resting her chin in her hand and gave me a little smile.

“Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to disclose any information to you about my other customers, not even if they exist or not.” She folded the map and held it between her two fingers at me.

“Right… sorry, forget I said anything.” I reached for the paper. She moved it away.

“-But maybe… if you keep visiting my store, as a customer, you may find whoever you’re looking for. Although I made this map for you to find your way out of here, it’s also a map to bring you back, so promise me you’ll return, and you can have it.”

Wow, she’s good. I just witnessed the act of a true saleswoman. She actually blackmailed me in a way that made me want to return.

“Haha, fine, fine, I’ll come back, I promise. This place is super cool anyway so I was bound to find my way here again eventually.”

She shifted the paper back towards me and let me take it this time. We grinned at each other. I feel like I could easily get along with this lady, even though she kind of intimidated me.

Just then, the cool door jingle played its tune from behind.

“Axel~ you’re back so soon?”

“What do you mean? It’s always the same time on Fridays.”

I spun to see who she was talking t-“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I screamed and pointed at the face of the boy who walked in. He flinched, nearly dropping the plastic bag in his grasp. Headphones, hair, bags, a punkish fashion sense; all the same. The only difference was the way he looked at me – like I was a psychopath.

But I wasn’t… one of those...

...just so you know.

#TaintedTracks

"Good, now my baby has more lunch money," said Tracie to herself as she picked up the five dollar bill her customer left on the table. "All I need now is money for the electric bill." She owed a past due balance of thirty-two dollars. Her paycheck had already been spent on rent and a few other household expenses.

Tracie eyed the clock. The dinner rush would be underway soon. She hoped to pay a few more bills, get more lunch money for her son, and maybe have some extra cash to treat herself. It was a matter of the dance between herself and the patrons going well.

"Good evening," she would say with a smile. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

If the customers looked up at her that was a good sign. They would leave a tip. If they smiled at her, it would be a bigger tip. If she thought of something funny to say and they laughed, then the tip might actually be worth the time she spent on her aching feet.

Anything for a buck.