Chapter 1

Annie stood leaning over the counter, her elbows resting in the grooves of the old wood the way they always did, her chin in both her hnads, reading a trashy tabloid. Other peoples lives had to be more interesting than hers. Outside some blue haired snowboarders were making handprints and baby feet in the glass. every few minutes on of them would kick the lower part of the porch and nock some snow off his boot while another one in a plaid gray jacket would flick cigaret buts at girl's feet as they walked by. The girls would screech, or call the snowboarders punks, then giggle as the rushed into the store. leaving pink and yellow boards, or skis against the old shaker building.
Annie breathed deep, board and tired of hearing the same sounds--a static soundtrack--and snapped her her gum loudly. It wasn't a good flavor, she'd try a differnt gum tomorrow. And while she thought about the gum and read about a tragic hollywood breakup the door to the convienent store flew open, the wind blew the pages of the magazine so they fliiped to the worst dressed list for the week, and Annie looked up to see if the boys from outside were coming in to shoplift energy drinks and slim jims like they always did, and thought today she wasn't going to let them. But the boys were still outside kicking snow and complaining about the icey condistions. She looked back to the rows of bottled waters from all over the world and saw the man that had slipped in the door past her with the wind. He was tall and thin. His hair dark, a little long, and salted gray. His brown cords hung loosley on his hips and he wrapped long arms around his body rubbing the sleeves of a worn wool sweater. His shoes, old loafers with the heels worn down in the middle, were soaked through and spotted with salt.
Annie watched the man read the lables of the water bottles. She had often stood in front of the case reading the lables, picturing the exotic islands and clean mountain ranges the lables claimed they'd come from. Picturing herself on the volcanic beaches in a skimpy bikini sipping the high priced water. Annie often pictured herself anywhere but where she was at the time. She scratched her dry nose to remind herself that she was in New Jersey, and it was february, and the clouds mad the whole state gray for a reason. The man at the back of the store scratched his head, grabbed a bottle of Poland Sprinf and brought it to the counter. Annie looked at his shoes as he walked.
"Will that be all today?" Annie asked, she didn't smile or look at the man as she punched the price of the water into the till.
"For now," the man answered.
"A bag?"
"Pardon?"
" do you need a bag? For the water?"
"Oh no, I'll just drink it now."
Annie inched the water across the counter into the man's hand and stepped back to watch him leave the store.
"Thank you, Annie, you have a nice day."
As the man left Annie fingered the red name badge the store owner insisted she wear. No one ever bothered to read the badge, they were in and out so fast they probably didn't even notice it was a young woman that rang them up. The boys that stood in front of the store conning out of towners to buy them cigerettes every day didn't even call her Annie. But he was probably just stopping on his way somewhere else. Annie went back to the glossy pages of her magazine, a story about a stalker and a pimp. The sun was going down and the blue haired kid and his plaid friend were gone.