Page 5 of Wicked Flavors

A wave of exhaustion hit Gwendolyn suddenly. If her nerves wouldn’t get her through this, she knew old reliable would.

“I have to go to the restroom,” she said with what she hoped was an apologetic look.

The two women nodded, making space for Gwendolyn to quietly leave her chair with little fuss. Mary took her seat, inquiring if Sierra was excited to start training as Gwendolyn exited with a sigh. She walked at herusual pace, just shy of a brisk walk, as to not alert anyone to her distress. The restrooms for the employees weren't that far, just past Mary’s office.

A moment later, Gwendolyn found herself locked in the single person restroom, staring at her reflection. Half-formed thoughts came to the surface about her conservative appearance. Her entire work uniform was a giant beige and basic blue advertisement for the company. A signal to customers that Gwendolyn had no personality outside of being of service to them.

Beyond the itchy fabric, Gwendolyn lacked a visual personality. The meticulously braided hair that went down her back was the same as it had been months ago. No makeup, save for the simple lip balm that lacked any color. The small wrinkles at the corners of her amber eyes were fairly new, but no one noticed the signs of age like she did. The only thing of interest was the gap between her two central incisors, something that had given Gwendolyn grief in elementary school.

Everything is just so…

Gwendolyn sighed.

2

Hopeful

Gwendolyn

There was something about the mid-morning to early afternoon shift that always messed with Gwendolyn. Something just didn’t feel complete about it. Was her morning half gone or her afternoon half saved? Or was it the other way around? It didn’t help that Gwendolyn was something of an insomniac. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept a good eight hours, but it felt like something she lost when she turned thirty.

Still, Gwendolyn did her best to be friendly with customers. She acted like she didn’t notice the odd glances she received for her outfit. Even so far north of Seattle, three layers in the middle of summer was something most people side eyed her for.

There was candy to restock, buttons to add, and magnets to organize near the register. A small collection of items customers had decided they no longer wanted to purchase was piled beneath the conveyor belt. Gwendolynwould normally run these items back, but she had taken over as primary checkout while Sierra was training.

Catie was closer to Sierra’s age, a freshman at the local community college, and had thick glasses. She wore makeup—most women did—but hers was a little more creative than most. It was an odd thing for Gwendolyn to get hung up on, but the eye-catching shade of teal was difficult for her to ignore.

Maybe I should go with teal for the shoes—

“Hey, Gwen, do you mind covering for us?” Sierra asked. “I’m going to run Catie through the promo announcement.”

Oh, please do. I can’t wait for this train wreck—

“You got it,” she said with another closed-mouth smile.

This was bad. Even on her worst days, Gwendolyn couldn’t remember being this snarky. It made sense when she was in high school, since it washigh school,and everyone was having a bad time. But at thirty-seven? The only thing Gwendolyn could think of was the adjustment to the rapid decline of her body as it succumbed to aging.

She was used to the upper back, shoulder, and neck pain from her chest and her poor posture from working on her dolls through late nights. But the shudder her knees did whenever she stood from a squatting position? That was new. The frequency of menstrual headaches, too. Irregular menstrual cycles—that one was also new, along with the return of subtle chin acne.

Hormones,Gwendolyn concluded.Aging and hormones.

“Just watch me, okay, Catie?”

The new hire nodded, eyes glued to Sierra as she picked up the phone that connected to the store’s intercom system. Gwendolyn pivoted on her heel and made the 4thof July promo table her horizon before Sierra could speak. She honestly wasn’t certain she could look Sierra in the eye when she—

“Attention all Master Basting shoppers!”

Gwendolyn bit her lip, trying to smother the scoff in her throat. She would never understand how such a conservative arts, crafts, and hobby store had ever settled on naming their company Master Basting. While basting was known as a sewing technique, to the average customer, it meant something quite different. On an average day, the store would get at least three prank phone calls inquiring about how good their ‘master basting’ was, much to management's distaste. The company wasn’t the first to name their business something unintentionally inappropriate, and would likely not be the last.

Maybe that’s why I stay here,she thought as Sierra continued her pitch.I lack entertainment.

Another lie, but Gwendolyn was very good at convincing herself it was true. Whatever she had to do to get through the day and—

“Gwendolyn?”

She jerked on her heel, eyes coming to focus on a familiar elderly Korean woman. She wore a loud orange top with neon green slacks. A matching, reflective sun visor was perched on her head.

“Mrs. Han, hello,” Gwendolyn greeted with a smile.

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