Post by Khalida Antar on Dec 9, 2008 15:05:28 GMT -5
((Late New Moon and tag Elaine and anyone else who wants to join )
Khalida entered the fabric store, her makeshift veil covering all but her eyes. Khalida had begun learning English and was desperate to test out what she knew, and to learn more. She had figured that there was no better way to do this than to go shopping, and since most of her clothes were mismatched stolen items from past victims, and her headscarves where actually bed sheets stolen from someone’s back yard, Khalida rather though she was killing two birds with one stone.
American money – also stolen – was still a mystery to Khalida, but after lots of guesswork and help from the cashiers she’d managed to buy a pair of jeans and two sweaters. She believed herself to have enough left over to buy fabric for a headscarf, and it was with faint wonderment and ignorance that Khalida touched the rich, silk materials. Cotton, silk, polyester, satin, one kind of material that glimmered in the light and yet was so transparent that Khalida would feel shamed to wear it. At last she went back to the cotton and picked a lovely light shade of green and another of powder blue. Smiling happily behind her veil, Khalida seemed to float to the counter.
“Good afternoon,” She said proudly and with a thick accent, placing the items on the counter. “I buy? Please?” The cashier, a bored looking teen with dyed black hair, didn’t bother to look up from her trashy magazine.
“S’five bucks,” She droned, continuing to chew her gum.
“Five. Five. Five,” Khalida murmured under her breath, sounding out the word and thinking back. Ah yes, she remembered now. Carefully Khalida pulled out three bills and began counting, or attempting to count out, the correct change. The cashier’s apathy and clear disdain however, had Khalida flustered so she simply shoved over the whole amount. “Here. Here five.” She stated hopefully.
The cashier sighed audibly and at last glanced up from the magazine to count the change. “That’s only three sixty-two,” She said. “You still owe me a dollar thirty-eight.” Khalida blinked, her mind reeling to understand what was being said to her. The cashier sighed and raised her voice in obvious annoyance, “Look! You. Give me. One dollar and thirty-eight cents! Got that? ONE and THIRTY-EIGHT!” Utterly bewildered Khalida took a slight step back. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she thought briefly of attacking the girl. Khalida had already fed, and no doubt this particular human would taste disgusting and bland, but still, it was nice thought.
Khalida entered the fabric store, her makeshift veil covering all but her eyes. Khalida had begun learning English and was desperate to test out what she knew, and to learn more. She had figured that there was no better way to do this than to go shopping, and since most of her clothes were mismatched stolen items from past victims, and her headscarves where actually bed sheets stolen from someone’s back yard, Khalida rather though she was killing two birds with one stone.
American money – also stolen – was still a mystery to Khalida, but after lots of guesswork and help from the cashiers she’d managed to buy a pair of jeans and two sweaters. She believed herself to have enough left over to buy fabric for a headscarf, and it was with faint wonderment and ignorance that Khalida touched the rich, silk materials. Cotton, silk, polyester, satin, one kind of material that glimmered in the light and yet was so transparent that Khalida would feel shamed to wear it. At last she went back to the cotton and picked a lovely light shade of green and another of powder blue. Smiling happily behind her veil, Khalida seemed to float to the counter.
“Good afternoon,” She said proudly and with a thick accent, placing the items on the counter. “I buy? Please?” The cashier, a bored looking teen with dyed black hair, didn’t bother to look up from her trashy magazine.
“S’five bucks,” She droned, continuing to chew her gum.
“Five. Five. Five,” Khalida murmured under her breath, sounding out the word and thinking back. Ah yes, she remembered now. Carefully Khalida pulled out three bills and began counting, or attempting to count out, the correct change. The cashier’s apathy and clear disdain however, had Khalida flustered so she simply shoved over the whole amount. “Here. Here five.” She stated hopefully.
The cashier sighed audibly and at last glanced up from the magazine to count the change. “That’s only three sixty-two,” She said. “You still owe me a dollar thirty-eight.” Khalida blinked, her mind reeling to understand what was being said to her. The cashier sighed and raised her voice in obvious annoyance, “Look! You. Give me. One dollar and thirty-eight cents! Got that? ONE and THIRTY-EIGHT!” Utterly bewildered Khalida took a slight step back. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she thought briefly of attacking the girl. Khalida had already fed, and no doubt this particular human would taste disgusting and bland, but still, it was nice thought.