Tired brown eyes stared lazily ahead from behind the counter while customers perused the wares of the simple shop that Arin worked in. Their brown hair sagged like the bags of their eyes before they begrudgingly tucked the loose strands aside, resting them behind their ear. Their mind wandered, but they remained casually aware of the presence of the customers before something caught their eye, and they let out a sigh.

“That jam is worth one copper, sir.” they sighed as an older gentleman went rigid, quickly pulling the jam from his pocket.

“Oh- my mistake!” the gentleman gave a crooked smile, “I’ll just- one copper, you say?”

“Yes, sir.” their voice was as dry as the desert they once called home, “One copper.”

“Right. Yes, of course.” the man hastily paid for the jam, “Have- have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.” they nodded, and the older gentleman stepped away out the door.

“I do love jam.” an eavesdropping customer smiled softly, and Arin took a deep breath as a starry gaze flickered to them both for a moment. “It reminds me of when I was young. Every morning my mother would have jam on toast for breakfast, and every autumn we would all get together to squash grapes one at a time - one of us at a time, that is. One grape at a time would take forever!” she laughed softly.

“Yes it would ma’am.” Arin nodded.

“One year the grapes went sour early, and we were afraid we wouldn’t have any jam for the winter.” the customer went on, “but then Marjorie got the great idea to make beet jam instead. I felt like I was cheating a bit, really, but it was the best beet jam I’d ever had in my life! Well, it was the only beet jam I’d ever had in my life, but you get the idea.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Arin nodded again, “Would you like a bag to carry this in?”

“Hmm?” she blinked, but her eyes widened slightly as she saw that all of her items had been accounted for, “Oh! No, thank you very much. How much did it come to?”

“Three silver.” Arin held out a hand.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Thank you very much.”

“Of course.” Arin hummed, and without another word, they accepted the coins.

The old woman who’d shared her jam story would not be the first of the day; this much Arin knew. Something about their face, their mother always told them, it made them more approachable. They didn’t believe that. There were plenty of more likely theories. It could have been some divine punishment for sins of a past life. Maybe it was a curse. They never asked for this, after all. Or maybe, just maybe... people were just like this.

The bell rang, and another gentleman stepped inside. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. He was older than Arin, by maybe about ten years, and his choice of clothing showed it. He wasn’t very large, but he gave off this bloated feeling, as if a needle-prick would make him pop. To put it simply, he looked like sweat.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Arin spoke their scripted line, and the man gave a slight wave, “Can I help you find anything?”

The man didn’t hear their question, and Arin let out a sigh of relief as the man gathered his items in a small basket. They didn’t appreciate the smell that was emanating from the man, but they didn’t judge him for it. They didn’t know his story, and with luck, they weren’t about to find out.

“Ooooh... jarred anchovies.” the man grinned, “I practically live off these things.”

A simple explanation. Good. That’s all Arin needed.

“You know, when I was real little-”

God damn it.

“- my dad used to take me fishin’ off the docks in Lower Dravensport. We used to catch all sorts of bass, catfish, even got a few eels.” he smiled, and Arin returned the smile politely, “‘Course, all I wanted was to catch the little anchovies. I used to scoop ‘em up with my own hands.”

“That’s very nice sir.” Arin tried hard not to sound sarcastic, “can I get you anything else?”

“Of course, then one day we went out fishin’ on a boat, a real boat!” the man went on, and Arin nodded, “had sails and everything. I still tried to lean over to catch the anchovies though, silly me, and I fell right off.”

“You must have been terrified.” Arin’s tone did not change.

“Oh, nah....” the man waved them off, “I’m a man’s man. I’m not scared of anything. Of course, you know that, don’t you fella?”

“I... can’t say that I do.” Arin shook their head.

“Ah, that’s alright. More power to ya, lad.” the man hummed, and Arin’s smile grew a bit plastic, “Anyways, so I’m leanin’ over, and I fell off as I told yah, and then, I saw the craziest thing.” his tone shifted as if he was about to make some big discovery, “It was one of those fish-people, you know? An Undarian woman. You ever see one before?”

“Yes, quite a few, actually.” Arin did not lie.

“Oh, you’re a lucky one then.” he grinned, “I’ve never seen such beauty in my life.”

“You... really like fish, huh?” Arin tried.

“I love ‘em.” the man nodded excitedly, “Even now I spend all my time fishin’. I can’t swim much anymore, on account of my stiff leg, but whenever I think about one of those girls... well, my leg’s not the only-”

“Pardon the interruption sir,” Arin quickly interjected, “Can I get you anything else?”

“Oh, no just what I have here.” the man shook his head as Arin started counting out the items, “What was I saying?”

“You were saying you spend a lot of time fishing, sir.” was technically the truth, “That’ll be six silver.”

“Wonderful, here you are.” the man smiled, and he handed Arin the coins before he was sent on his way.

The door closed, and Arin let out a relieved sigh. It was a few moments before the air felt safe to breathe in, but at the very least they were alone again.

“My cat died last week.”

Arin nearly jumped out of their skin as their eyes flew to the woman standing before them. She was looking at them rather expectantly, and Arin blinked as they tried to process exactly how long she had been there.

“I-... I’m sorry?” Arin gave a crooked grin.

“My cat.” the woman repeated, “She passed away last week. I think it was ratsickness.”

“That’s... terrible.” Arin frowned slightly. “I’m sorry for your-”

“That’s how my dad went three weeks ago.” the woman cut them off, and they stood flabbergasted. “I’m more sad about Mr. Mittens though.”

“I... yes.” Arin was at a loss for words, “You’re a... very strong woman.”

“Thank you.” she gave them a sad smile, "It means a lot.”

“You’re... welcome.” Arin nodded slowly, “Can I... help you with anything?”

“Hmm?” she blinked, but then shook her head, “Oh, no. I’m just browsing.”

“Oh... alright.” Arin rubbed the back of their head, “Well... let me know if you need anything.”

The woman proceeded to walk almost aimlessly, perusing the wares of the general store with almost whispering steps. Arin stared at her in bewilderment for a few moments, but decided better of it as they began wiping the still-clean counter in an attempt to look busy.

It wasn’t long before the bell rang, and the door closed again. Arin looked up, hoping it was a signal of peace, the woman was indeed gone, but a young man had taken her place, and was looking around rather indecisively.

“Can I help you sir?” Arin forewent the usual greeting.

“Hmm?” the man blinked at him, “Oh! Yes. Maybe. Could you? I have a question.”

“Alright...” Arin took a deep breath, “What is it?”

“Suppose... and this is purely hypothetical here, but suppose you had a pet baloth...” the young man gave a crooked smile, and Arin raised an eyebrow, “What would you feed it?”

“People... large animals... they’re kind of big... and carnivorous.” Arin answered.

“No-no-no! A little one!” the young man held his hands in surrender, “Like... a baby baloth.”

“Do you have a baby baloth, sir?” Arin cut to the chase.

“What? Pffft.... No...” the man was now very nervous, “What would- where would you get that idea?”

“Call it a hunch.” Arin shrugged, “Butcher next door sells scrap meat cheap. He won’t ask any questions if you don’t.”

“Perfect!” the young man grinned, “I mean-... that would be- I’m just gonna go.”

The young man hurried out the door while Arin shook their head, and they set about reorganizing the shelves to keep themselves occupied. Despite the customers they’d already seen, it was a slow day, though Arin didn’t dare say that out loud. They knew better than that. There are several words one should never say when working in a retail environment. Slow is one of them, along with quiet, boring, or easy. Just one of these words was enough to bring on a ‘rush’ of customers, and Arin had perfected the art of always appearing busier than they were, lest they disturb whatever malicious deities had control over their life.