From Modesto

The door was long, slightly taller than I was. It was made out of the finest wood and crafted to perfection. Swirls and curves danced on its surface. The knob shines like the sun and connects on one’s left hand side. On the center was a small glass window in the shape of a square. One could see though it, and see an outside field, luscious grass, and cloudless sky. Something else on the other side was a man. I didn’t know who he was, but I knew he was someone worth the time to meet.

Every time, he would look at a beautiful flower. The flower changes every period. This day, it was a flower with thick petals and a round seed birth center.

Every time, he would look up from that flower, and he would look at me. His expression changes every period too. This time he was happy to see me. His teeth were pearly white and inhumanly dazzling to the eye.

Every time, he would come over to the door I stood behind and twist the knob. It wouldn’t open, so he would ask me to it. He wouldn’t say so, per say, but give me a look. From that look on his face, whatever expression it was, I knew what he wanted from me.

And every time, I would reach for the knob, and nothing happens next. It’s like time stops right at the moment I grab it. By now, I’m familiar with the feel of it. It disappeared in my hand when I grabbed it, and the movement of the spin was so delicate, it required little to no effort to turn the knob. But I wouldn’t do it, I couldn’t.

At the end of the dream, I let go.



I work as a cashier in a convenient store by Brooke and Silver Ave. We sell a lot of things like cards and toys and book bags and anything, well, convenient. We’re not a big store, but more than ten people can be in there at the same time. In my station, there’s a set of rings on the right of me, a set of lip-gloss on the left of me, and under me is a glass dome of all the candy you could think of. Behind me are a collection of cigarettes, knickknacks, and prank tools. On the far right of me was, of course, a cash register.

I see people come and go. Old, young, in pairs, triplets, shop lifters, comic book geeks, jocks, parents, children, all the like. But there was this one guy that really intrigued me. What set him apart from everyone else was his hair. It was red and curly to the point where it can be compared to an afro. How does he see through that thing?  What really stood out about his hair really was the color of it. He was a bright red head. I knew red heads were usually orange, but his hair was red, literally red, like primary red. If you didn’t know any better (not that I do), you’d say he died his hair.

He comes here every day, staring at the love cards section. His hands jitters more the closer it gets to one of the cards. Once he’s at his peak, his spins on his heels and walks out the door, the chime above ringing its little tone as the door opens.

He does this every day after 3, and on the weekends, first time we open.

One day, on a winter morning in Saturday, my kind nature was sick and tired of seeing this poor sap all day not knowing what to pick, so I decided to give him some help. I left my post at the cash register. I went between the panty box, the old CD box, and down the aisle of lamp shades before I met him with his back turned. “Having trouble?”

He jumped and grabbed his chest, skipping to the side and tripping albeit looking at me like I was a monster with rabies and breathe quickening like he had asthma. Holding my hands up in surrender, I asked him to calm down. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His arms and legs trembles, and his heavy breathing seized to end, but he nods. I offered him help getting up on his feet, but he declined, doing it himself. Like nothing had happened, he went back to love card searching.

"You come here everyday," I said while looking at the cards with him. I didn't notice at the time, but he was trembling besides me like a leaf and sweating like he just got out the shower. "You know, it's not a big deal which card you use, right? As long as you say what you want to say is important." He ignored me, which was actually him staring blankly at the cards in cold blooded fear as I spoke to him. I didn't realize it though.

There was this one card I looked at with interest. It was a green one, with cartoons on the front asking “You know what I love eating more than hot dogs?” and on the inside is a sexy woman eating a boat float very seductively while the song, “Ice Cream”, played and animated her licking the spoon. It read, “A nice sundae, whip crème from your banana split and my cherry on top.” That’s my favorite card because of its dirtiness. I really appreciate that in a joker.

"If you're up for suggestions," I snatched it out the rack and examined it, “this one’s my favorite card.” I doubt he could care any less, but I continued. “I like jokes like this one. It's so dirty ad funny. Plus it’s animated.”

That’s when he snatched the card out of my hand without kindness or mercy. Along the way to the counter, he grabbed a case of pens and an envelope in one motion before he slammed on the surface of my work station. Hurriedly I went over and bashed my fingers on the register. “3 dollars.”

He gave me the money before I finished telling him.

I took the three dollars from him and slide the in the slot. “Would you like a bag?” as I looked up from my register, I saw the bag of pens being pried apart and him writing in the card already as it plays the song. After that, he pops it in the envelope and licks the glue at the tip. With a pen, he writes, From Modesto to Cash, gave it to me, then left the store in a hurry. I could see him running across the street and almost getting hit by a car through the large windows that took place of the wall.

I looked at the card with arched brows. Was I supposed to give this card to a girl named Cash? Thinking that, I heard a girl inspecting the socks section cooing, “Aww.”

I blinked when I looked up at her. “What?”

“That is the cutest pick up line I’ve ever seen in my life!” her fists, which had a ball of blue socks in them, held her heart on her chest. She nearly feel over as she walked over to me to see the envelope.

“What? Pick up line?” as you can imagine, I didn’t get what she was talking about. I flipped the card front to back looking for said pick up line.

“He bought a card for you in the store you work in. That’s so sweet!” Holding up the card to her, I showed her that it was to someone named Cash. “Don’t you get it, silly? Cash, like cashier. It’s for you!”

My eyes opened wide in shock. Someone gave me a card? Someone gave me a card? Someone gave me a card? Someone gave me a card? I would never think those words would be together in a same sentence in my life time. The girl chuckled at my face. I must have made a silly baffled one. “Don’t just stand there, red lobster. What does it say?”

Feeling the numbness of shock, my shaky hands ripped open the envelope and pulled out the card inside. Ignoring the dirty joke, I read the note within. Will you go out with me? The card read. The girl with blue socks in her hands nearly jumped out of her shoes as she squealed with joy.

I’m just sitting here wondering when this card is going to disappear.