Re: Webster's: Holly & Elijah
Elijah remembered the place opening. Had watched it, a little. Remembered the place before, open and shut by the girls who had worked the counter with hair bright as candy-floss. Given the birds working then in the shop his wallet and told them to go by, open the account. There was something about music picked out by someone else. Got a sense of how they thought by how they picked, given a seed of something to go picking by. Wasn't nearly as simple as just disliking people, not leaving. Disliked people, could have got by with a playlist and someone else's mind on music from some city the other side of the world.
The guy behind the counter wasn't a girl. Close to the glass, Elijah could see that much. Expected a girl, it was a girl's name and town rumor didn't get delivered along with coffee, groceries and the occasional burger. It went back the other way, wasn't oblivious to the fact half the people who showed up with packages took their time looking around the house before they left. Waited them out, from the room above the entrance until footsteps on the bare boards said they were going. Sports were lost on Elijah. Tactile, ruthless, bloody. Wasn't his speed. If he had a speed.
"Holly," Elijah said, blankly in response. There was nothing feminine about the guy answering the door. Tall, blocky, looked like maybe he played sports. Had some memories as a kid, of watching the football field at the high school from a tree. He palmed a hand over his chin, the length of his beard straggling back against his palm.
"Not really an aesthetic choice, so much as convenience." Elijah's voice was quiet. Mild and low-pitched. Maybe more suited to libraries than music stores but hadn't been in a library after closing and he looked around appreciatively. The stock, the lights, the sound. Didn't know if the guy was just a guy or something else. In Repose, there was a lot of else. If he was else, he was new. The store wasn't big. It wasn't big for a place. Meant he was contained, so any of that else was trapped in between the walls and Elijah. Else wouldn't win, it never did.
Walked the route round the table, the boxes. Hands stayed in his pockets, leaned in further to look at the labels, the artists. "Hey. Thanks." Straightened, looked at Holly dead-on. No one really came face to face with Elijah these days. Customers, maybe. Customers didn't really look at him. Looked at the cars. It was steady, direct eye-contact. Elijah's were very blue.