Post by Brett Goforth on May 21, 2008 12:38:18 GMT -5
Brett wasn't sure what had possessed him to agree to work weeknights at the theater. Granted, it left his weekends free, but the truth was, in a town as small as Lake Arthur, not many people went out for movies on a Thursday night. Standing behind the counter, with nothing to listen to but the hum of the Icee machine and the quiet sizzle of grease on the hot dog turner, he rested his arms on the glass pane of the counter in front of him, and sighed. Rows of candy in boxes, packages of peanuts, things he'd stocked and counted a hundred times, were losing their charm.
A lone customer came by, and Brett provided the requested popcorn and soft drink, then returned to his previous state of boredom. Not only was it a quiet night, it was in the middle of most of the showings, so anyone who actually was in the building was already inside the darkened theaters, enjoying their movie. Brett played with grains of salt on the countertop, salt left from people sprinkling it on their popcorn and not bothering to clean it up. He arranged it into a little circle, then added little lines branching out from it, little arrows here and there, anything to keep himself occupied. Only an hour and a half left, he consoled himself, consulting his watch.
A lone customer came by, and Brett provided the requested popcorn and soft drink, then returned to his previous state of boredom. Not only was it a quiet night, it was in the middle of most of the showings, so anyone who actually was in the building was already inside the darkened theaters, enjoying their movie. Brett played with grains of salt on the countertop, salt left from people sprinkling it on their popcorn and not bothering to clean it up. He arranged it into a little circle, then added little lines branching out from it, little arrows here and there, anything to keep himself occupied. Only an hour and a half left, he consoled himself, consulting his watch.
