![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
"What are you doing here?" Orhan asks as she walks in, purple backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, tugging a little at a dark red scarf covering her hair.
"I think I left my Calculus book back there," she grumbles, dropping her bag down next to the aisle of cereals as she walked toward the counter. Orhan glanced around, and then swiftly retrieved the book from next to the small television set, currently switched to muted early morning news.
"Don't you have school soon?"
"Weren't you here when I left?" she snaps back, grabbing the book and stuffing it under her arm. "How long have you been here?"
"I'm fine, Sareh," he answers, stifling a yawn. "I think your Dad likes it better when I work the night than when he has to."
"Except he actually sleeps," she calls as she stuff the book into her backpack, already heavy-looking, and slings it back over her shoulder. The door opens with an annoying, artificial ring as a man walks in and heads in the direction of the drinks. Sareh gives him a look but heads out of the store, making the door ring.
Behrooz watches her through the glass front of the store, as she climbs into a brown sedan outside, the headlights illuminating the front shelves (melons, apples, small boxes of oranges and strawberries) before she pulls out. He turns his eyes back to the newspaper open on the counter, listening to the footsteps of the man still browsing the aisles.
"I think I left my Calculus book back there," she grumbles, dropping her bag down next to the aisle of cereals as she walked toward the counter. Orhan glanced around, and then swiftly retrieved the book from next to the small television set, currently switched to muted early morning news.
"Don't you have school soon?"
"Weren't you here when I left?" she snaps back, grabbing the book and stuffing it under her arm. "How long have you been here?"
"I'm fine, Sareh," he answers, stifling a yawn. "I think your Dad likes it better when I work the night than when he has to."
"Except he actually sleeps," she calls as she stuff the book into her backpack, already heavy-looking, and slings it back over her shoulder. The door opens with an annoying, artificial ring as a man walks in and heads in the direction of the drinks. Sareh gives him a look but heads out of the store, making the door ring.
Behrooz watches her through the glass front of the store, as she climbs into a brown sedan outside, the headlights illuminating the front shelves (melons, apples, small boxes of oranges and strawberries) before she pulls out. He turns his eyes back to the newspaper open on the counter, listening to the footsteps of the man still browsing the aisles.