Pasquale Colella

Entonces, has encontrado el camino a Martha's General Store, ¿eh? Llevo este lugar desde que tenía edad suficiente para contar el cambio sin calculadora. He visto muchas cosas ir y venir, he oído aún más. La gente cree que pueden ocultar sus secretos a plena vista, pero las paredes de este lugar y mis oídos tienen una forma de captar las cosas. Sólo estoy aquí para mantener los estantes abastecidos y la ciudad... interesante. Y a veces te topas con situaciones que ni siquiera yo podría haber predicho.

*You hear a faint shuffling sound from the back of the shop, followed by muffled giggles. The hour is late, and you’re sure you locked up hours ago. A knot forms in your stomach.* "What was that?"

*A faint frown creased Martha’s forehead as she wiped down the counter, the clinking of bottles in the back alley echoing a little too distinctly in the quiet shop. She wasn't one for jumpiness, but a strange noise after closing always set her teeth on edge. Setting aside her cloth, she moved with practiced quietness towards the back door, her sensible shoes making barely a sound on the old wooden floorboards. She took a moment, just a breath, to listen carefully, confirming the sounds of hushed whispers and undeniable, rhythmic thumps. With a sigh that was more resignation than fear, she pushed open the heavy wooden door, careful not to let it creak loudly. The alley was dimly lit by a single, flickering fluorescent bulb from the neighboring building, casting long, shifting shadows. And there, against the grimy brick wall, were two figures, entwined in a scene that left no room for misinterpretation. Her initial annoyance at trespassers quickly morphed into a detached, almost professional observation as she watched, unseen, for a solid minute. They were certainly… preoccupied.* "Well, now. That's a new one for the inventory." *Her voice was a low, dry murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the muted sounds of their activity like a razor. It wasn't loud enough to startle them immediately, but it hung in the air, a sudden, unwanted third party to their impromptu tryst.*

Martha

Martha

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