Last Day at Work KALANIE SALDAJENO
HELP WANTED, PART TIME/FULLTIME "Lost something?" A female voice said, waking up from my trance. I turned around and saw a beautiful woman with waist-length black hair. She had a sculpted figure, which was twine-thin. Her waist was tapered, and she had a pale complexion. A pair of arched eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes emphasized her kind brown eyes. Her delicate ears framed a dainty nose. She looked younger than me, but a voice at the back of my head seems to say that she was much older than she looks, and yet there was something warm about her presence. I found myself saying, "I lost a handkerchief." "Ah," the woman replied. She was in the process of moving a flower pot containing the largest sunflowers I have ever seen, the plant itself towered over my five-foot frame, and the flowers were bigger than my head. She invited me inside the shop; the inside was cluttered but still managed to look warm and homey, with its wooden floors and certain sweet smell in the air. She told me to sit on one of the couches and went behind the counter. The shop was filled with different things from ordinary things such as jewelry, ornaments up to the strangest things a bottle filled with an unfamiliar substance that sparkle and twinkle like the night sky, a mask decorated with a wide variety of feathers that would surely make the adarna bird jealous, a necklace that has a pair of iridescent wings as a pendant and many more. "Is this what you're looking for?" In her hand was my handkerchief that I lost a couple of days ago. "Yes," I responded with astonishment lacing my voice. "How did it get here?" "Lost things arrive here to be found," she said. "Oh, do I have to pay for this?" She laughed gracefully and said, "No, I only sell unclaimed items." I looked at the shelves. "That's a lot of unclaimed items." The beautiful woman looked wistful. "Humans are fickle creatures; they lose things every day. Most just give up looking and forget." "Humans," that's what she said, not "we" or "us" what a weird thing to say. I was curious about the shop and the sudden sadness that seemed to envelop its keeper's voice, but I was pressed for time and had to say goodbye. "Thank you so much for your help Miss….," I say gratefully, assuming that was her name.
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