The store was abuzz with customers. The promise of a sunny weekend brought out those who wanted to look their best for a night on the town. Sara hadn't seen anyone shorter than her at all today, and there had even been a few mothers with their kids. She sat solemnly on a stool while she rang up the last customer in her line, at least for the moment.

  "There you go sir. Thank you for shopping at Nordstrom's and have a nice day." She placed a pair of pants in a plastic bag and handed it over. Her patron didn't even look at her, he picked up the bag and turned away from the counter. On his way out the door, he stopped to say hi to a woman in the electronics department. She was at least 5' 6".

  "Bitch." He wasn't really that cute. It was just the principle of the thing that ticked her off.

  Sara looked up at the clock. Almost five, not quite but almost. Her shoulders hurt, she was underappreciated, she was unnoticed by most of the world, and most of the time people asked to see her I.D. if she wanted to see an R-rated movie. She was old enough to legally drink for God's sake.

  "Life sucks." She took off the pair of reading glasses she had on and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She noted that it was red and sore from where they had been pinching her all afternoon.

  Sara looked at herself in a mirror that was plastered on one of the pillars in her section. She stood up straight and ran her hands down her front. Did her breasts look a little bigger? Yeah, right. She wished.

  So what's not to love?  She lifted one pant leg and examined her calf. It was lean and shapely from running, a little stubby by the world's standards, but it was in fine form. Maybe I should work out my arms.  She felt her arm, a little firmer than usual. If she paid more attention to it, maybe that would be that little extra bit of help she needed. But in the end, who am I really kidding?

  Sara stopped posing. She got closer to the mirror and focused on her eyes. They really were gorgeous she had to admit. They were a light yellowish-green. Golden some people said and shaped like the pattern of broken glass around a small crack.

  "What are you doing Sara?"

  She was jostled back to the present. A present where her supervisor towered over her.

  "If you can't find anything to do, I'm sure there are some boxes in the storeroom that could use some unloading."

  "Yes Miss Drake." Sara wasn't even tall enough to look at Evelyn Drake's low-hanging necklace at eye-level. When she wore high heels, like she was today, it was infinitely worse. "Right away."

  Sara skulked away, cursing her antagonizer under her breath. She pushed on a door marked employee's only and quickly hid behind it. As she peered out, she watched Evelyn stride across to another department.

  "No! Damn it!" She was going towards Shawn's desk. Shawn may have never given Sara the time of day, but he was still her man. No one else was supposed to fool with him. "DAMN IT!"

  It's not like Evelyn had any interest in him either, but he just drooled over her everytime her 5'11", freak of nature body walked by. All bitch, breasts, and nothing else. Sara would love to put that prom queen from a Russ Meyer movie in her place.

  Look at him, he fidgets like a schoolboy when she's near, can't finish a single sentence, and puffs out his chest like an ostrich. Jerk. The cute ones are such superficial slime.

  She slammed the door shut and turned on her heel. In her haste, Sara almost slipped and fell to the ground. Her head swirled around as her equilibrium gave way. As she flailed about wildly, she knocked over an open box and sent hangers flying across the concrete floor. Sara just stared at the mess she caused. After a few seconds, she clenched her fists and stamped her foot. She stamped it so hard, she managed to rip a large tear in the thigh of her tight Khakis. She tried to pinch the edges of the hole together, but it refused to close. When she let go of the fabric, the tear lengthened as it spread back out.

  "Oh, damn it!"

  Well, they were pretty old and they felt like they were shrinking in the wash anyway. Still, she couldn't help but gripe one last time.

  "Yes, life sucks."

-     -     -

  The street lights were on in full force that night. Shining with a white intensity that burned the vision. Two joggers turned a corner and began their journey up a long hill in one such city street.

  "Thanks for coming out with me tonight Ben, I really didn't feel like doing this alone."

  The sunglasses on his face bobbed up and down on his nose that was slick with runner's sweat. He continued to gaze forward as Sara shied away from the glare of the overhead lamps.

  "Anything for you Sara, there aren't many people who have the same patience with me like you do. I know it can't be easy leading a running blind man." He carried his walking stick in a holster strapped to his back. To his knowledge, they hadn't invented a running stick. For this he was thankful, but he kept it to himself.

  "Mail box to your left, about four seconds ahead."

  Ben dodged the obstacle easily, he could hear the blunt way it blocked the oncoming wind as he passed it.

  "So, how far do you want to go today Benny?"

  "Up to the third, and over to the beach. It's been a while since I've heard the waves."

  "Ooo, that's quite a-ways for one night. I'm impressed."

  Ben smiled to himself.

  "As long as you think you can handle it my dear. You already sound like you're having a rough time of it over there."

  "It's these cramped sneakers. I think I've just been on my feet all day today and most of yesterday and their getting back at me for all of the pain with a little suffering. Normally I'd obey them and stick to the sofa, but I had to get out of the apartment and away from all of my thoughts. Trash can on your right, six seconds."

  "Well I'm glad you called me instead of a pizza guy to help solve your problems."

  "And how, though I have to admit a pizza doesn't sound so bad right about now."

  "Finish this bad-boy off and the pepperoni is my treat."

  "That's a deal. Car behind us, single file."

  Ben slowed for a split second and then jumped behind Sara. He listened to the sound of her footsteps and managed to stay a few close feet behind her.

  "You're running pretty fast tonight, I'm not used to your quicker pace."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was moving so quickly." Sara slowed and moved a bit to the side to allow Ben to catch back up. She came to an abrupt halt.

  "I didn't mean for you to stop. Sara? What's wrong? Say something." He listened in distress. His breath catching in the core of his throat. All he could hear was a light shuffling and nauseated moaning, it seemed to come from all around him in his frustration. "SARA!"

  "I'm here. I feel sick all of a sudden. I think it's going away."

  "Didn't that happen this morning too? I'm worried, maybe we should cut this short and head back home. I'll even throw the pizza in anyway."

  Sara stood up and tested her balance.

  "I think that might be a good idea, so much for a mind-clearing run. But my feet are really hurting me and I don't want to take my shoes off out here. Can I lean on you the way back Ben?"

  "Uh, sure. Yeah! Here, let me help you."

  Sara began to hobble over to her friend's waiting arm when she stopped and looked at him questioningly. Unable to see her face, he deduced that she had a problem by her hesitation.

  "Is something else the matter? You're not beginning to feel worse are you? I can get a cab if you need."

  "No it's just ... Ben, how tall are you?"

  He was taken slightly aback at her query, but smiled just the same.

  "I don't know, I've never seen the scale when the doctors are done with me. I think it's on my I.D. but I'm afraid it's not in braille, or even with me for that matter. Why do you ask?"

  "Um, no reason. Let's go. Trash can is coming back up, ooh."

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