An Embarrassing Anomaly (if I were you)

“Would you like that in a bag?”

Finley was too focused on avoiding eye contact to truly think about the words spoken to her. Only three days ago, she had applied and interviewed in this very place, the Produce Republic, and this morning, she had a received a very late call that she was rejected.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” she remembered the manager saying in her crisp, cheery voice. “We simply have enough staff at the moment. Good luck on your job hunt!”

Finley hadn’t needed an apology, and she knew exactly why she was rejected. She was asked a math question about returning change to customers, and she had confidently answered incorrectly. The manager had hid her chuckle as she scribbled a note on her clipboard in indecipherable handwriting before sending Finley along her merry way. It was embarrassing, revolting, and shameful. Had Finley forgotten all her second grade math skills right then and there?

Yet here she was again, sent by her mother to grab a jug of milk, tomatoes, and a fresh bundle of garlic cloves for tonight’s spaghetti. She let out a tiny groan as she shuffled through her wallet, looking for her credit card.

The cashier shook the milk jug again. Finley nearly jumped. The cashier had a disappointing and depressing scowl etched onto her sun-burnt face.

“Yes! A bag please,” Finley said in a jumbled slush of words. The groceries were bagged, the bill was paid, and she ran out with her bags, tripping on her shoelace and forgetting to grab the receipt.

An average day, she decided.

She had unlocked her car to set her groceries in the backseat when she spotted a little not tucked carefully behind the windshield wipers. Finley was an exceptionally cautious person when it came to public areas, and this note was practically a horn going off in her head to run for her life. Surely, someone was waiting behind the truck parked next to her or the bushes in the median on the way out, hoping to lunge at her and grab all of her belongings from her persons. She shuddered at the thought.

But this note didn’t look menacing. It was a pretty shade of berry blue, covered in glitter, and the writing was in some sort of pink calligraphy. Yes, the paper was placed by a stranger, which meant they had probably watched her go to the store to make sure it was on the right person’s car, but maybe, just maybe, she could stop and read it safely. There were security cameras at the grocery store, after all.

Finley set the groceries in the backseat, turned up the air conditioning to keep the milk from spoiling, and stepped back out to grab the note. A plume of glitter filled the air as she held it, and she couldn’t help but sneeze.

She began to read.

Dear Land Dweller,

It has come to my attention, that, presumably, you are living under the pretense that you are a human. If you would like to be free of this embarrassing anomaly, along with whatever other pain and suffering you’ve encountered, please arrive at the Spuntino di Mezzanotte at Midnight.

Without any sort of love or luck,

Hermit.

Finley let out a huff of disbelief. Who in their right mind referred to a person as ‘land dweller’?

Maybe not a who, but a what.

Finley shook her head. As much as she loved the idea of an otherworldly creature coming into contact with her, she was no child. Any sorts of dreams of unicorns, fairies, and the like were crushed when she was much younger. She had other dreams to look forward to now; parties, college, summer vacation- but most importantly, a job. That was what she had hoped for the most, before school got out. She had applied to at least five jobs, and there still wasn’t a single success to show for it. She needed a job before senior year began, or else she might not be able to afford college.

She exited the Produce Republic’s parking lot, heading onto the main road. The roads of Cypress Cove were quiet- as soon as the warm weather blew away at the beginning of September, the party goers and tourists left as well, leaving the little beach town an empty shell of what it could have been. The sandy shoulder of the road was dotted with the occasional house on stilts or a convertible filled with old people. After a painfully silent twenty minute drive, Finley drove up a steep hill on the other side of the road, into the driveway of a little ranch house with its own tiny stilts. She patted her pocket to ensure the note was still there before grabbing the grocery bags and heading inside.

“Honey, the milk! My sauce is starting to break!” her mother called. Finley ran to the kitchen, past her father and baby brother. She threw the bag away, opening the milk jug and pouring at least two cups into the spaghetti sauce.

“A bit too much,” her mother said with a frown. She shook it off with a smile and a shrug. “How about Alfredo instead?” She leaned over to open the fridge and grab a full bag of Parmesan cheese. Finley shrugged and went to her room, collapsing on her bed with a groan.

Today was exhausting. She had received a few calls of rejection from the businesses she’d applied to, and after visiting a friend for their birthday, her mother had begged her to go to the very grocery store where she’d made a complete fool of herself. Her stomach her with anxiety of what might come after her tomorrow. Would her car break down? Would they run out of groceries again? The possibilities were endless- and agonizing.

A thought suddenly popped into her head; a memory. Hadn’t that note said something about her various sufferings? She was suffering pretty badly right now. Jobless. Hopeless. She lifted her head and pulled the glittery, sapphire colored note out of her pocket.

…please arrive at the Spuntino di Mezzanotte at Midnight…

An idea lit in Finley’s head. She packed a bag of belongings, grabbed her car keys, and headed out the door.

“Audrey invited me to a sleepover!” she called over her shoulder as she slammed the door shut. In reality, her night wouldn’t be filled with spilling secrets, painting nails, and falling asleep at her friend’s house.

It would be filled with Italian food, a mysterious stranger… and a tiny, glittering, magical pinch of hope.