Soulmates
“I’m sorry,” the clerk explained, “but I can’t split up cigarette packs. It’s a crime. It’s a felony.”
“You don’t understand,” Lupe countered. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Jess, leaning over the linoleum surface a little more aggressively than was probably strictly necessary.
“We’re soulmates. This is special circumstances.”
Jess tugged at the shirt of her collar a little bit for emphasis, but it was hardly necessary. Soulmates were rare enough as is, two people perfectly suited for each other, identifiable by the pinkish-red marks their veins made on the surface of their skin, a visual representation of the love flowing out of their hearts. Typically, the markings traveled in a radius a few inches out from the heart.
These two were, putting it frankly, a bit excessive. On Jess, markings ran up the side of her neck, on Lupe, down her left arm clear to her elbow.
In other words, hard to miss.
“I know,” the clerk protested, because anyone with two eyes could see their connection and also, because he had this argument with them at least seven times a week. “There’s not a loosies exception for soulmates.”
“I don’t think you understand how serious this situation is,” Lupe continued, with all the indignation of a local weatherman depending star treatment at a strip club. Jess, being supportive, flexed her knuckles.
“How serious is this?” the clerk asked, bored and a bit fed up with the affair. There was a line between the two of them, starting to form.
“Deadly,” Jess answered. She put her hand on Lupe’s hip. The clerk rolled his eyes. Last week, he’s seen her scoop a baby bird off the side wall and scale a gutter to return it carefully to its nest. To put it lightly, her threats rang hollow.
And yet, that wouldn’t move his line along faster.
“Alright, alright,” he agreed, attempting to humor them. “Special soulmates privileges, just keep it to yourselves.”
He pulled two packs of cigarettes off the shelf behind himself, ripped the cellophane off them both. He emptied each halfway. Then in one of the packs, he carefully loaded the top row with Chesterfields, the back with Pall Malls. The spares, he loaded into the other pack, and tucked behind the counter.
“Thanks, man,” Jess announced, and Lupe fished for her wallet, both of them happy he’d given in. The clerk ringed them up, charging extra.
They took their bounty and strolled out of the store, happy as twin clams, and the clerk sighed in resignation as his next customer sauntered up to the counter.
They’d be back for the other pack tomorrow, or sooner. It seemed like a whole mess of trouble for no reason to him, and yet they elected to go through it, daily.
Bunch of show offs, if you asked him.