In front of Aria, there was the Super Sun Market, or so it said in red 3D lettering affixed to a yellow stripe of paint above the door. It was a corner store on an unpeopled street. Despite the new year having come and gone, Happy New Year was still written across the front windows, surrounded by doodles of poorly drawn fireworks. Its door was propped open as if begging for customers to come in. For some reason unknown to her, instead of immediately walking back to the church, Aria decided to heed its invitation. As she stepped through the door, the smell of the place gave away that it was a store that belonged to immigrants. In addition to the usual things that can be found in any small general market – candy bars, medicines and overpriced refrigerated goods – there were items that Aria had never seen before. She paused in front of a stack of bags containing what looked like little orange beads. The packages said Masoor Dal, beneath the icon of a flaming genie’s bottle.
Aria peered around hesitantly, trying to locate whoever was tending the store. There were a few closed doors that clearly led to other rooms or closets and a staircase that led to a second floor, which didn’t look like it was intended for customers. Aria took advantage of the absence immediately, attempting to trick any potential security cameras by pretending to look at one item with one hand, while using the other to steal things away in her jacket pocket. She had taken a candy bar, a packet of gum and a packet of peanuts before she heard the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone coming down the stairs.
“Hello, welcome.” The man’s voice preceded his entry into the room. He nearly fell through the doorway to the stairs in his eagerness to greet her. For the briefest of seconds, Aria thought that she had been caught red handed. But instead, the man looked ashamed that he had not been there to tend to her needs when she had first entered the store. He had been raised with a strict sense of customer service, which he had clearly fallen short of by leaving the store untended for a few minutes. He must have mistakenly assumed that no one would show up in the time he had given himself to use the bathroom.
The man who stood before her did not appear to be much older than herself. He was thin and tall. She could not tell if he was Middle Eastern or Indian. Bushy eyebrows framed his almond-shaped eyes. They were the color of melted chocolate. They peered down at her from an almost uncomfortably close distance. They were as trusting as they were curious. His face was almost childlike, only a hint of stubble gracing his chin and upper lip. Even though his long nose, prominent ears and thin upper lip made it so that he would not be what most people would consider handsome, there was something that Aria found stately and tempting about him.
“Do you need help finding anything?” he asked.
“Nah, I’m just looking around,” she said.
“OK. I am Omkar,” he said, putting his hand against his chest. “Tell me if you need anything.” His accent stressed the syllables rhythmically, the words almost entirely spoken in the front of his mouth. She liked the way he put emphasis on the wrong syllables. It made him all the more endearing.
He looked almost disappointed at her rejection. She couldn’t work out whether the let-down she felt was due to the fact that he had worked out that “just looking around” meant “probably not going to buy anything.” Or whether it was because he was lonely and desperate for the discourse implied in showing her around the store.
Aria felt bad for having stolen anything from a man who was so obviously nice. But it was too late to change her mind now. She wandered through the aisles to deceive him into thinking she had looked around without finding anything interesting to buy. She was fully aware of Omkar restlessly waiting behind the checkout stand in case she was to indicate the need for his assistance. Aria was impressed that so much of his personal energy filled up the room. His essence was so thick it nearly sucked the breath out of the room. This was not the kind of place that a man with such obvious charisma would normally be found.
After a few minutes, she made her way to the door and said “thanks” before stepping outside of it. She heard his voice yell out behind her, “Thank you, come back again.” Aria felt strange leaving, as if by stepping into the store, she had exited her own life and entered his. She hadn’t realized how her own story had faded into the background of the thick smell of Punjab spices when she was walking around the shop. Suddenly, the street outside felt colder and her loneliness more bleak. As she walked back to the church, she used the momentum of her body to emotionally push through and past the way the feel of him haunted her.
Taylor arrived long before he had promised. The temp office had told him that they had no new listings and so he had turned back as quickly as he’d come. Aria felt like they were occupying two different worlds despite their physical proximity. Taylor, who didn’t mind the surface chitchat that took place between them on their way back to the car lot, was oblivious to the distance between them.
When they arrived back at the lot, there was a commotion taking place. Aria and Taylor watched at a distance, sensing the tension in the air. Ciarra was screaming, “Get the fuck outta here you sick fuck,” as she threw a handful of dirt in the direction of
