“I heard it’s because she can’t get over the fact that her husband once cared for that childhood sweetheart who passed away,” another added knowingly. “But look at him, he handed her his salary card, even raised the fish she likes, and I think it was flown in from overseas too. Isn’t that enough? She just doesn’t know how lucky she is.”
Those last words pricked at me as if they were a judgment I couldn’t argue with.
Lucky...
The word sat strangely on my tongue, like a label someone else had taped to my chest.
The moment I pushed open the door, their chatter cut off abruptly.
Several pairs of eyes turned toward me at once, sharp as needles, pricking against my skin.
A faint awkwardness crossed their faces, and the shop owner hurried out to smooth things over.
“Angela, you’re here?" Mrs. Jenkins' voice was hoarse, cautious as she approached. Come in, come in. We just happen to be short-staffed today.”
I let them perform their little charade of surprise. It was easier that way. I smiled at the owner, pulled my uniform over my head, and kept my breath steady while the room rearranged itself around me.