Closing Shop

The bell on the door rang just as I was closing the register for the evening. I glanced up from my counting to see who had come in the shop so late. A short young man fidgeted in the doorway, glancing nervously at the arrangements surrounding him.

“May I help you?” I called.

The man snapped his eyes in my direction, and then broke into a wide grin. He waddled up to the register.

“I need flowers,” he announced as his pulled on his bright tie.

My heart softened. Close up, I could see the slanted eyes and flattened features of Down syndrome.

Before I could reply, Jimmy strode in from the back room, carrying the buckets to clean out the refrigerator case. He stopped when he saw my customer.

“Dude,” he snapped, “We're closed. We have to get out of here.”

“It's all right,” I said. “I can help this gentleman.”

“Gentleman?” Jimmy hooted. “The clown in that old suit?”

“This suit was my father's,” protested the man. “You are being disrespectful!”

“Ooh, the retard can talk,” Jimmy laughed.

“Jimmy!” I shouted.

“What?” he sneered at me. “You don't like the way I talk to your little friend?”

I took a deep breath before I spoke. “You are to leave. Now. Once I have finished with this customer, I will be calling my father. I'm sure he will have your final check ready for you to pick up tomorrow.”

Jimmy threw the buckets to the floor and took a step toward the register. I simply pointed to the security camera aimed right at us.

As Jimmy stormed out of the shop, I mentally thanked our insurance agent for insisting that we upgrade our security systems.

Word Count: 296