One Night at the Convenience Store
He stepped aside to let the screaming sirens streak past him, their wailing growing louder and more urgent, almost as if their speed and sound could save the dying person who choked for breath in the shadows. The lollipop in his mouth was tart against his tongue, the artificial sweetness of the strawberry erupting as he bit down on it.
Hm. I think I need some more now.
He stepped out into the light, sticking his hand into his pocket. It crinkled, the discarded lollipop wrapper rubbing against his fingers. For a moment, he had the image of a fallen candy flash through his mind – the cold fingers wrapped loosely around the small white stick, the ants marching steadily to swarm the fallen candy.
Which flavour did I leave? Blueberry? Orange?
He shifted the candy into his cheek and pulled out the wrapper, his eyes glinting in the red and blue flashes reflected on the glass. The loud chatter and the hurried voices floated over to him, but he ignored them.
Strawberry.
He didn’t hurry. Not even when the ambulance sped past, its siren loud and insistent. Not even when the squad cars pulled out, radio chatter squawking behind him. He meandered, slowly, to the convenience store along his way home. It was a dimly-lit spot, the streetlight flickering rhythmically above the entrance.
The bell dinged when he pushed the door open, and the solitary clerk looked up at him, blinking sleep from her eyes. He ignored her, still taking his time as he reached for the display, scooping up as many lollipops as he could hold.
“A party?” the clerk asked, curiosity in her voice.
“You could say that,” he replied noncommittally. “People really love sweets, you know.”
“But that’s a lot,” she said, sorting through the bright orange, pink, and red wrappers to count them. “You got a lot of kids?”
He looked at her with a grin. “Who said the kids eat them?”
He thought about the ants again, and the red seeping slowly to stick to the surface of the lollipop.
The clerk shrugged. “I don’t know, man, that’s what anyone would assume.”
“Do you like lollipops too?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. His fingers wound around the wrapper in his pocket, the plastic crinkling and sounding abnormally loud over the whirring fan at the till.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” she asked, her voice turning guarded.
“Nothing much,” he said, silky smooth. “It’s a dangerous time to be out and about, so I hope you stay safe, lady.” He handed her the money and swept the lollipops into his jacket pocket.
“What a freak,” he heard her mutter under her breath as he pushed the door open again. He sighed.
Maybe I can spare one more.
He turned back to the clerk, and the door swung shut behind him with a solid click. The fan at the till continued to rattle even when the table fell over.