Dearth Prt 1

The partially set sun sent its searing orange rays piercing through the lofty buildings, casting tall shadows across the city. A chilly breeze blew gently, leaving plastic bags and dust flailing beautifully in its wake. A lanky woman held tightly to her yellow sunhat.

Tumaini Pharmacy's front door creaked open just as Janice was reaching for her hooked coat.

“I’m sorry sir. We’re closed till tomorrow,” she blurted, hardly turning her head.

She was just about to head out, so this man walking in was not that pleasant a sight. It happened all the time. She would sit, idle, all through the day, but right before she closed shop, they, the customers, would trickle in in droves like their lives depended on it. She always had a response prepared and always stood resolutely by it. This man was unusual though. Something about him made Janice weaken her infamous stance. He looked troubled. She could tell by the deeply burrowed contours on his face. His eyes too. They had a troubled gleam. They were saying something.

“Ple..please, I rea..really need these drugs,” stuttered the man. “Please…”

Janice knew she couldn’t fend away the man easily. She felt strange giving up that easily. He wasn’t planning on leaving anyway. As much as her mind was screaming for her to remain firm and close up, she somehow found herself walking back towards the shelves and reaching for the drug cabinet’s keys hanging on the small nail by the framed Poisons Board’s certificate.

“What meds?” she implored irritably as if to warn off any other person coming in to walk back out. She wanted to finish with the man before another pilgrimage marched into the shop.

“Tylenol …” muttered the man.

Janice lifted her eyes from the newspaper on the small table behind the counter and looked squarely into the man’s.

“You know you need a note to get those, right?” she inquired with false concern.

“Sure!” said the man. “It’s here somewhere.” He started fidgeting through his pockets finally fishing out a crumpled blue paper from his jackets breast pocket. The jacket, brown in color, looked rather old but one could tell from its tag the owner parted with a fortune to get hold of it. “BRIONI” it read out in a valiant red.

Janice took the paper from the man’s hand and unfolded it. It looked fake. She could tell the doctor’s signature was forged. She couldn’t sell the man the drugs. She had to send him away. But that would mean an ensuing argument and more people would walk in. She wasn’t ready for that.  She swiftly folded the note and flung it across the counter towards the man. She then reached for a black phial from the up most shelf of the cabinet, opened it and sloppily poured its contents onto its lid.

“Those aren’t mine,” declared the man as if to justify himself to Janice.

“Clearly they’re not!” smirked Janice as she dropped nine pills into a small brown envelope.

“My wife,” the man said tensely, “She’s been feeling a lot of pain lately.”

He gazed outside seemingly lost in thought, then he began drumming his fingers on the counter.

“It’s the cancer,” he added, his voice undulating as if he was about to break down.

“They say she won’t make it to Christmas.”

Janice paused from her writing and looked at the man ruefully.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I know she won’t die,” sniveled the man, his voice firmer.

“Just hope…” started Janice before the man cut her off.

“Hope, eh? That’s all they can’t take, right?”

She somehow couldn’t open her mouth to answer the man. She herself furtively needed that reassurance. Reassurance that with hope all things would work out well eventually. She managed a nod, a wry smile accompanying it. She finished scribbling on the envelope and handed it to the man.

“A thousand five hundred,” she said writing something in a black book she had pulled from under the newspaper. The man placed the exact amount on the counter then mouthed a just about audible thank you.

Darkness had now engulfed the city and the streets were bustling as people rushed to destinations only they knew. The man stood fixed in front of the Pharmacy’s door, his eyes trying to make sense of the little markings etched by Janice on the envelope. A woman jostled against him as she ran towards a bus that was just pulling away. With a sheepish smile, she jabbered a ‘sorry’ then leapt into the bus that immediately sped off leaving a coughing crowd behind it.

Reece, the man’s name was Reece, tired of trying to decipher Janice’s scribbling, shoved the envelope into his pocket and walked slowly towards a black Audi. He gently flung its front door open and hopped in. A man leaned against the pharmacy’s side wall, cigarette in hand. Reece stared at him for a while. The man's clothes were tattered and grubby, but he seemed at ease. He took a deep puff then after what seemed like an eternity exhaled the grey smoke wistfully. The black car slowly pulled away then sped off.

The street lights suddenly came on. The tall building’s lights, noticing, followed suit one by one. A bus pulled over dropping off a horde of gorgeous, scantily dressed women. The sky was clear. Dark, but clear. Over the distant hills the moon could be seen peeping. The trees could not hold onto their leaves anymore. It was a lovely November night.

Note:
Click here for the post's continuation :)