Mystery Shopper

Her brisk stride, uneven steps and a casual disoriented demeanor caught my attention. The common traits of an aimless weekend shopper, but I was persuaded not to mistake her as one. From the very moment of her entry, she fills the store with her uncontestable presence so hard to ignore. From my cashier’s desk, I notice the other sales guys acknowledging her charisma, swooping towards her from different directions, like moths attracted to a burning candle. I see them disguising their lecherous gawks under their friendly yet intrusive “Can I help you?” smiles. “I can help myself” she says with her eyes and walks off in the other direction.

I can’t dismiss the magic of her charm myself. I’d be fooling myself if I were; In fact any man could fall easily for a girl with her beauty. As I catch a glimpse of her amid the aisles, I surmise that the most striking aspect of her charm is her face. A chocolate tan complexion, flawless skin texture over the high cheekbones flanked over around a pair of mysterious kohl darkened eyes. Her shoulder bears an expensive leather bag, a bag almost as big as her lean torso. A self pampering reward for losing another inch off her waist, possibly. She walks gracefully across rails of elegant clothing, refusing to blend in within the sea of shoppers. I wish to compliment her how beautiful she looks when she smiles. Only, she’s isn’t smiling.

In my fuzzy reverie I picture her with me, sipping coffee as we sit in the foreground of a setting sun. The cool breeze entices her dense black tresses to flirt with her flawless face. My eyes set into her eyes where I notice two tiny ambers extinguishing under the far horizon, until the sky takes the color of her kohl darkened eyes. Her eyes reach for me, conveying an indefinable expression, so aptly inexplicable for that moment, until almost instantly her mouth parts to give way to words unsaid. I see her lips move; only there isn’t any sound, just a mute motion of lips… no sound. In a desperate attempt to reveal the voice behind that beautiful face I find myself moving nearer to her delusive image, attempting hard to hear the sound deficient words coming from her lips.

“EXCUSE ME” she yelled rather loudly when I heard her eventually, only now she wasn’t the protagonista of my private daydream, but standing right in front of the cash counter. “EXCUSE ME, COULD YOU GIVE ME MY DAMN BILL IF YOU’RE THROUGH WITH YOUR CONTEMPLATION?”

I look into her eyes, wipe the sweat off my forehead and swipe her card. She grabs the bag hurriedly, exits the glass door and drives off to a far off heaven (That’s where they come from). I lift the haze off my unrestraint mind

MORAL OF THE STORY : The author seems to have lost all his Morals!