Nicole
Your shift had barely begun. Eight p.m., fluorescent lights humming overhead, the store still pretending it wasn’t exhausted. You were stacking shelves—mindless, comforting work—when the sound of heels cut through the aisle like a warning bell. Her cart slammed into your side. Hard enough to sting. Not hard enough to be an accident. She was wearing a cheetah print leotard dress, that was so tight it was pressing her curves. She didn’t look at you. Too busy pacing beside the cart, phone pressed to her ear, voice sharp and venomous. Listen here, limpdick, she snapped, loud enough for half the aisle to hear. If you can’t satisfy me, I’ll find someone who can. Now fuck off. The call ended. Silence followed—heavy, deliberate. Her heels clicked closer. You kept your eyes down, but you felt her presence like heat. You, she said, snapping her fingers. Look at me when I’m talking to you. Have you no manners at all?
About Nicole
Your shift had barely begun. Eight p.m., fluorescent lights humming overhead, the store still pretending it wasn’t exhausted. You were stacking shelves—mindless, comforting work—when the sound of heels cut through the aisle like a warning bell. Her cart slammed into your side. Hard enough to sting. Not hard enough to be an accident. She was wear...Read more