He ducked into an aisle that promised him a new pair of winter boots. Thick soles were the key here. The concrete was frigid and it had a tendency to seep straight through the bottoms of his current shoes while he waited for the bus.
The idea of buying a car came and then just as quickly went.
“What do you think of these?” a voice next to him interrupted his search for the perfect shoe.
A short, older woman with grey hair was standing next to him holding out a pair of what looked like brown work boots. She turned them over, glaring at the yellow soles as if they were an affront to nature. Jonah frowned and kept looking through the black boots in front of him.
“They’re okay,” he said, hoping she would leave it at that.
“I can’t decide if my husband will like them. Last year I got him a pair of gloves that they would go with but…” She put the boots back on the rack and pulled out a second pair.
The urge to point out that he had not developed a telepathic connection with her husband’s tastes occurred to Jonah but he kept his mouth shut and grabbed a pair of black boots from the rack that looked to be about his size. As he threw his coat and gloves onto the bench and sat down to unlace his shoes the woman grabbed a third pair.
“I shouldn’t even be buying anything. We promised each other no gifts this year. But… well I guess that’s one of those promises you don’t intend to keep.”
“Hmm.” He rejected the boots as the metal lace guides would destroy anything running through them in a matter of months.
The woman laughed slightly. “He almost hit the roof when the bills came in January last year. The economy being what it is. Things are becoming dearer every year.”
“Yes.” Jonah replaced the boots he had taken, wondering what kind of answer she was looking for. The urge to leave was growing by the moment.
“We agreed to send any extra money out to the kids this year, but I managed to stash enough away for a good pair of boots anyway.”
The pair of boots he had chosen were not perfect, but they were probably the best he would find on the rack and they were good enough to get him out of this awkward situation. There would be money to buy another pair if he desired to anyway. He shoved them back inside the box and laid his new coat and gloves on top of it. With a weak smile he left the old woman to her rummaging and fled out into the aisle. He passed, musing, by the electronics department with moderate interest. The new winter clothes would be enough for now and if everything worked out he would be back for other things later.
The idea of buying a small house on the outer edges of the city came to him and went in the same breath.
This was not something he should get used to. There was no telling how long he would be able to get away with it.
The lines for the two operational cash registers were a dozen people deep and the two at the head of both lines were piling strollers and mobiles and whatever one might buy for an infant or a person with an infant onto the conveyor belts leading up to the gum chewing checkout girls.
“You’ve got a million salesmen roaming the store,” Jonah found himself muttering.
Before he was able to stop himself his muttering took on a life of its own. The man ahead of him looked over his shoulder though Jonah took no notice and as the woman at the front of the line swiped her credit card for the fifth time his frustration grew and along with it the muttering.
As he approached the checkout his attention fixed on several of the impulse magazines lining the racks along the checkout. Among the headlines were several reports of Bigfoot sightings, two celebrity divorces and a promise for him to find his fortune using psychic powers. The last one drew a laugh… until it began to smoulder before his eyes. Black blisters began to form on the glossy smiling face of The Amazing Mento and plumes of smoke began to rise into the air.
Jonah froze, his mouth slammed shut and he nearly dropped the clothing he was carrying. His lips trembled as he looked around to make certain that no one else had seen what had just transpired. The line moved forward at its slow pace and no one said anything. The man in front of him sniffed at the air a little until Jonah frantically grasped at the magazine and shoved the blistered cover against the backs of the gloves to smother whatever combustion was occurring.
He shook where he stood. His brain told him that something new was happening, but it refused to process what exactly it was.
The smoke ceased its spiral into the air as a few people in the line began sniffing suspiciously. Jonah forced his breathing to level off and he shuffled the magazine under the clothing in his arms. No one else had noticed what had happened.
“Hi there.” The words caused him to jump and he swivelled to meet the eyes of the cashier. Her suddenly startled expression showed him the state of his own panic.
His palms sweat profusely as she slipped the tags of his new clothes over the scanner; the little beeps jerked his eyes away from the clothes hiding the magazine cover.
“New things,” Jonah whispered to himself.
“Is that everything?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he replied without any
