A shift at the pawn shop

"Alright, I'm heading out. Think you can handle the rest of the night by yourself, kid?" She had been closing the store for her uncle since the beginning of summer, and now all the leaves had fallen. The obvious way he handled her like one of his antiques always bothered her, but she did frighten him pretty badly in July when he found her in the back room with vomit all over the floor after one of her panic attacks. Still, she stifled an eye roll and told him she got it, no problem.

He came around the counter and beheld her with his arms outstretched, holding her by her shoulders. It always made her feel uneasy, the way he could look at her like she was something to be proud of. She turned his grasp into a quick hug, which she knew was the best way to get him to go away.

She let her arms drop from the hug, but he didn't do the same. Weird.

The flickering fluorescents of her uncle's pawn shop transformed into a high budget production of flashing lights. Soon, she couldn't even hear her own curses spewing from her mouth. The commotion only got louder and louder as the voices began to fill her with pride and fire. There were too many voices screaming, and so many of them did not belong to the twenty hands holding her up. They were yelling her name. It was... the sweetest noise.

Paralyzed, she let herself float on the crowd. Well, it wasn't really floating. She was dipped and thrusted, yanked and shoved. Cold air drifted up past her navel as her hoodie slowly slid up her belly. She didn't mind it until a set of nails sent a white-hot burst of pain across the right side of her ribs. She tried to lift her head and look but someone grabbed her hair and pulled her head back down. Ow! She tried to pry the hand off her head but nails latched deep into her wrists.

Her breath quickened, and she started to panic. What will I be worth if pulled to pieces?

Like two pinballs shooting left and right, her eyes darted around looking for a stage. Somebody bit her ass cheek. Enough. She started kicking bitches.

The commotion around her changed; the evolving energy in the musty air made her nauseous. Gagging on frantic breaths that never reached her lungs, she turned and retched. Her eyes landed on a sycamore tree. In the middle of a crowd? Yes, a sycamore tree. His thick mottled bark was chipped and frayed, and the green in his leaves was rather lackluster. His branches swayed as the pawn shop door opened, allowing a cold wind to rush inside.

The fresh, frigid air snapped her back up onto her feet. With her clothing intact, and the door chime echoing in her head, she steadied herself on the counter and smiled at the customer as he approached. Back to reality.

His glasses age him. They were thick with rounded rectangular, silver frames. The kind with a double bar at the top of the nose bridge.

She pointed over her shoulder at the taped-up sign that read: "NO BARTERING".

He met her eyes for the first time, and a chill ran down her spine.

It can't be. She snaked her fingers into the back of her head and felt a bare spot on her scalp - it was hot to the touch. Oh my god. She started to run to the bathroom but halted, not wanting to leave the man unwatched.

He flicked the ring off the case like he was playing origami football. It ricocheted off the wall behind the counter and boomeranged back towards the case, landing perfectly inside the display. The ghost of flashing red and yellow arcade lights reflected in his glasses. She had to squint to make sure, but the lights were there - a victory sequence.

Her jaw had fallen open and she stared at the jewelry case in shock.

He shoved his hands back in his pockets and turned to walk away. The clump of dark hair was spilling out of his pocket, flowing in the wind of his steps. He opened the door, woke up the door jingle, and walked out into the navy night.

She set her phone face-down on the counter but flipped it over facing up - then face down again. Silence. Her fingers raced on the glass counter. Tip tap tap tap, tip tap tap tap, tip tap tap tap. She turned on the ringer on her phone, set it back down, and stared out at the parking lot. Her body was loud today. She was on fire just sitting still.

Stepping around the counter, she walked over to an aged, full-length mirror encased in brass and looked into it over her shoulder. No angle allowed her to see the back of her head, but she let the area beneath her brow ache as she twisted and strained. After several attempts to rake through her hair, there was no bare spot to be found.

She saw it before she heard it, too deep in her head to notice the high-pitched whine crescendoing towards her. In the reflection of the mirror, she watched the street outside slowly flood with red lights. Her fingers pressed into her ears, lightly plugging them as the frequency grew louder and sharper. It seemed to drill into the center of her brain, like how a cartoon bee would bury its sharp butt in your skin. The ambulance was sure to be in view any second as the shop filled with ambient, cherry light.

Jordan always came through for her. Another text came through.

With a lazy smile resting on her face, her neck arched down to type, the girl strolled across the shop and sat crisscrossed in front of the mirror.

The mirror cracked with a hiss. A lightning-shaped fracture cut down the center of the glass. Large shards began to splinter and drop to the floor, revealing a hole in the back of the mirror.

She locked her phone and placed it on the floor. Her stomach flipped but she refused to let the emotion show on her face. She crawled towards the mirror on her hands and knees, carefully avoiding the glass fangs on the tile floor. With two fingers, she examined and traced the sharp pieces that still hung on the mirror's perimeter. A piece broke off and went tumbling into the darkness behind. She held her breath but did not hear the glass hit the bottom. She reached into the mirror, but even with a fully extended arm she could not feel anything - just a pocket of darkness leading somewhere else.

She got to her feet, shards crunching under her Timbs, and jumped into the mirror.

She landed in a ball as her fall created a muted plunk that should have echoed but didn't. The surfaces surrounding her were cold and rigid; it was too dark to make out any shapes around her as her eyes... eye?, hadn't adjusted yet. She tried to lift herself up but couldn't remember how to, as if this new world stripped any control she had over her own body.

A few rolling clinks and clanks traveled through the air to give her a millisecond of warning before it set off a chain reaction. "Eeeehehehe!" A screeching cackle rang through the air as mechanical fists from hell thundered and knocked beneath her. She was unleashed into ultimate chaos as gravity sent her rolling down a sloped glorified board game, flashing lights threatening to blind her. She sped downwards over a yellow spiral and past a green witch as a wall of ruby red smacked into her and sent her flying up and over a wiry bridge. A synthesizer played a familiar theme song in the background. Ding ding ding! Again, momentum took hold of her as she rolled down, spinning inside of her metal fishbowl. Crows cawed from above. Ruby red uppercuts came for her, their blows landing and shooting her up into a forest of rotting trees.

She didn't have time to ponder his familiar bark as she rolled down the yellow brick road and the ruby slipper flipper slapped her onto a ramp at the back of the game and right into Dorothy's house. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

A fury of unabashed clanks came from both slippers as she rolled down out of the house. She thought she was about to roll right through them, untouched, but the tip of the left one caught her. She arched gracefully to the right, a perfect setup for the other slipper to kick her straight towards the wizard and through his curtains. With a whoosh, she sailed between the drapery, leaving behind the insane noises of the pinball machine, and landed on her feet in front of a crowd. Oh god.

She missed her entrance, so the band looped around the chord changes again. She peered around the spotlight, scanning the crowd all the way back to Front of House. She didn't trust the shadows - didn't trust the arms that could easily be his branches in disguise. Even if he bought a ticket; even if that made him only a fan, she didn't think she owed him another performance.

But it wasn't about him anymore - this was for her. But more importantly, this was for everyone else in the crowd. Music is how she bloomed for others. Let him watch. So she sang.

She poured into the crowd; she imagined her joy and love was a giant pink bubble holding everyone closer to her. The crowd worked with her, an ocean feeding off every note and devouring her emotions.

A warm blanket of applause wrapped around her and her band when they finished the song. A part of her floated into the crowd - not like crowd surfing. Something separated from her core and she watched herself finish the rest of the show.

After the lights came up, she walked out of the front doors of the venue with everyone else, and walked the sidewalk for a mile. Philly winds are never friendly in the fall months, so the solace that settled in her bones and the tears that dried on her cheeks were deeply chilled. But she couldn't feel it. Her body was numb from the back of her eyes down to her toes, lightly fizzing like an open seltzer would. There was a gentle awareness of this numbness, but no real thoughts about it - this moment was not for thinking.

The door chime sung out as she stepped back into the pawn shop. Walking behind the counter, she opened one of the display cases, took out an ugly, braided gold band, and pocketed it. She opened the register and put all the receipts and cash into a zippered pouch, added eighty of her own money, and locked it in the back office for her uncle to count tomorrow.

The mirror was in one piece. The relief she felt from not having to clean up a pile of glass overshadowed the voice telling her to break it again and take a piece of it home. So she flicked off the lights, locked up the shop, and made her way out.