From down the street I could hear a chirping mousey voice approaching, emitting a ticker-steady stream of banter which allowed me to exactly trace its trajectory until its owner stood in front of the store and opened the door.

“Oh my God, is this your little store front?”

“Yep.”

She was like a giant child, everything about her. Her black hair was split off into two braids that came out from beneath a white and purple Huskies baseball cap. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties but was dressed like she was twenty, only her body looked funny in the clothes; it was too misshapen and bulbous to be held up the way those jeans were trying to hold it up. Her eyes were wide and round, in a constant state of wonder. But she didn't revere anything new that came her way. Like a child, she trounced around the store like she owned it. But like she owned it and didn't really give a shit about it, and maybe if she could find a thing or two she liked she'd take them.

Her boyfriend stood behind her quiet while she stomped around giving a running monologue.

“Oh, do we know any babies we're going to see anytime soon? This would be great for the basketball game. Oh! Look at these post-it notes! I couldn't find these sweatshirts last time!”

She set the post-it notes on the counter and kept looking around. Her boyfriend stood in front of the counter holding a shopping bag, not looking at me, not looking at her, not looking totally annoyed or mad that he was there, but like he was patiently waiting for whatever he would get in return for this outing. Or maybe the outing was his reward, and he stood there silently so as not to upset her, pleased to please her.

“So what's upstairs?”

“Just storage.”

“Oh cool! These post-it notes are so cute. Oh my God even the pen writes in purple!”

“Thanks, have a good day.”