Shadow On The Eyes

The Farmer

Back in the truck, I headed to Abby’s Second Hand and Foot Used Goods. I knew I could always pop on my laptop and order furniture delivered new, but I was curious about the store and the owner.

Pulling up along the cracked sidewalk littered with old street lamps, I got out and looked around. Years of dirt and sun-beaten storefronts lined up one next to the other. Fliers about donations and the local foodbank covered the glass door while antiques sat in the window displays.

Opening the door, I heard a bell chime, and a woman’s voice called out, “If you’re looking for the food bank, you’ll have to visit the church first for a voucher.”

I recognized the owner when she walked around a long shoe rack displaying used heels and sneakers.

Looking me over, she said, “Oh, it’s you.”

I didn’t know how to take it, so my suave response was, “Yes, it’s me?”

She rolled her eyes, “At the gas station, red truck? Almost hit me?”

I nodded and cracked a sheepish smile, “Ah, faded blue tru