The Shop

The girl in brown and tan, a server at the shop, sprays the tables with cleaner from a dingy yellow bottle as the sun light shines through the tall windows illuminating the mist as it streams towards it's desired destination. Again and again she pelts the table top with the golden fog, as if beating and punishing it for becoming so dirty and causing her to need to shine it. She then apologizes to the table by wiping it slowly with a white bleached towel, frayed on one edge, proof of its overuse. The large arching movements of her arm, as she stretches to reach across the vast expanse of the top, are slow, methodical and practiced. The table does not stand a chance against such skill and tenacity, vengeance flowing from every swipe, she finishes and straightens, places the trigger of her weapon through her belt loop and places her hands on her defined hips in one swift, skilled movement. Another job well done, the conqueror turns on one foot, leaving the vanquished behind her, preparing to take on another unworthy foe.