Much as she loved working at the bookstore, even part-time, Bex had to admit that her mind wasn't entirely on the job today. Tuesday night had been fun, but Jamie hadn't called since, and she was starting to worry. Bex really wanted to see where things could go, but maybe Jamie was looking for something that produced a few more immediate fireworks? Or maybe Bex should call? Jamie might be leaving it up to her to determine whether there was a future to be pursued. Maybe. If there was still nothing by this evening she would give it a shot. Probably.
"Excuse me?" a man's voice brought Bex sharply back to reality. He was hovering next to her, clutching a dictionary and a slim book of poetry. "Could you ring these up for me? I'm afraid there's no-one at the desk."
"Oh! Of course, sir. I'm sorry for the wait, I hadn't realised there was no-one there."
Bex hurried over to the main desk of the shop and quickly processed the man's items.
"That will be twenty-one ninety-seven, sir."
"Thank you." The man rummaged in his wallet for a moment, then sighed.
"Oh, I must have pocketed the twenty separately. So sorry- could you hold that for a moment?"
He thrust his wallet at her, and Bex took it as he ransacked his coat pockets for the banknote. It wasn't a terribly well-kept wallet, and something on the bottom of it gave her a sharp scratch as she closed her hand around it. The man was finished in moments, though, and quickly paid his bill.
"Thank you, sir." Bex would have added "see you again", but he was already making his way out of the door, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. At least that gave Bex the leisure to have a look at her hand, which was beginning to sting quite a lot. He'd actually drawn blood! Bex felt a stab of annoyance. If the man could afford to buy a dictionary, he could afford a new wallet. No-one wanted a sharp-edged wallet, no matter how well it discouraged thieves. Irritated, she sucked at the cut as she walked to get a plaster from the first-aid kit in the back room. She wasn't the sort to stay angry over little things for long, and once the sting faded, she half-forgot the man altogether.
It was an uncommonly busy day for the usually quiet bookstore, and by mid-afternoon Bex was starting to feel a little weary. She decided that that was probably the reason for the slight ache between her eyes as well. During a lull she caught herself calculating the minutes until they would close up and she could go home, and quickly stopped- she knew thinking like that would only make the time go by slower. To distract herself, she wandered over to the second-hand shelves and started placing some recent acquisitions in appropriate gaps.
As she worked, absorbed in creating the right effect with the books, she began to feel a prickly tickle make the rounds of her nose. She ignored it for a while, occasionally pushing it away by pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth. This tickle refused to be denied her attention, however, and perhaps two minutes after the first pricklings, she was forced to take a couple of steps back from the bookshelves, fumbling in her pocket for her little white handkerchief. Pulling it out, she plunged her nose into it just in time.
"Hatishew! huh-uh-isshhew!"
The tickling relieved, Bex looked suspiciously at the books in front of her. They didn't look that dusty, and the shop was usually pretty clean, but... She would have to remember to come around this section with the duster again. It could wait until tomorrow, though. She didn't feel up to the stretching and bending involved this afternoon, and besides, there was only about an hour left before closing time.
It might be able to wait, but then so could the rest of the volumes to be shelved. As Bex moved back into the central area of the shop, Mr Grace, the bookstore's owner, gestured to her to come and take his place at the desk. This wasn't unusual near closing time- that way he could handle all the little bits of business that needed to be finished before they shut, while she dealt with last-minute customers. A small child buying a book on flowers for his mother and a young reptilian woman looking for a book of love poetry later, a man with a chestnut ponytail asked her if they had a copy of A Time to Uproot, the fourth book in the Naomi's Grief sequence. Bex remembered that she had unpacked a copy that morning, and fetched it from the back room for him. But just as she set the book down in front of the customer she was overcome by a fresh, vicious irritation. This one would brook no argument, so, voice quavering uncontrollably, she managed to stammer out;
"Sorry, sir, if you could hold on just a muh-mom- momehhnt-" before she twisted her head to one side and sneezed "heh-chiieew!"
Her sneeze was high-pitched, but gentler than she had expected, given her lack of control over it. It hadn't entirely dealt with the ticklish feeling, but, giving her nose a quick wiggle, she found that she could easily subdue it. Turning back to the customer, she said;
"Sorry about that, sir."
"Not at all. Bless you." She thanked him, although she noticed that he did look a little repulsed. She usually managed to cover her nose and mouth, partly because she knew she could sometimes show a disturbing amount of teeth when she sneezed, but this one had been so sudden that she hadn't had time to think. Fortunately, her fur concealed her blushes well, and she quickly rang up the man's purchase.
As she counted out his change, however, she began to realise that she had been mistaken about how easily the remaining irritation could be contained. Every time she breathed in it grew a little stronger, until it felt as though she had a tiny pigeon lodged in her nose, fluttering its wings with each inhale. Hoping that holding her breath would buy her the time she needed, she handed the customer his change and reached for her handkerchief again. With the little cloth square safely in hand, she allowed herself to breathe out slowly. Apparently, this caused the tiny pigeon to go wild, fluttering up and down the length of her nose in a blind, ticklish panic. Bex clamped the handkerchief over her face as the itch took over, jamming her eyes closed and reducing her breathing to desperate tickly gasps.
"uh! huh! heh! hi!-hi!-huh... heh-heh-heh-hih-heh!- hehhhCHIIIEW! hisshiew! heh. h-iisshew! hetishew! ah... ha- eh- ah-! HATchew!
The fit finally released her, and Bex had to take a moment to catch her breath before she could even open her eyes again.
The man was still there, looking distinctly uncomfortable this time. "Bless you." he said again, then turned and was gone before she could even apologise. She blushed again, deeply embarrassed. At least his absence meant she could blow her nose without worrying about anyone being disgusted. It felt unusually in need of it, even for a fit like that. Something was definitely a little off, Bex decided.
Fortunately Mr Grace put up the Closed sign just a couple of minutes later, and Bex was free to go, picking up her bag and coat on the way out.
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