“Raisins,” Lee said softly, yet with declarative certainly.

“What?”

“Raisins.”

Gunner felt his brow furrow down over his gaze of the bank across the street. “What about raisins?”

“Ugh,” Gunner said, “and you picked raisins?”

“Huh?”

“Raisins. You picked raisins?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Lee said, considering whether he made the correct choice or not. “I guess it’s because in the apocalypse everything will be pretty much devastated. If anyone survives, I think the first thing people will do is try to establish some level of normal existence. When that happens – I mean think of it. Food, housing, clothes, safety, energy, communications, and plain survival will take priority. The last thing anyone will likely be thinking about is how to get raisins back. At least for a while. I mean, we’ll probably have pizza again before we have raisins.”

The silence between them rose up again, disturbed only by the occasional car passing by.

Gunner Ferryman, real name William, first met Lee Foley, real name Lee, in Mrs. Tanniger’s fifth-grade class at Benjamin Franklin elementary school. Lee, who moved to Cardington from Arizona in the middle of the first half of the school year, was unceremoniously placed next to Gunner because it was the last available desk in the room. Despite their coming from such different places, the two started to talk, then hang out, then they became virtually inseparable.

They had more in common than most. They were both middle children. They both had challenges at home, what with Gunner’s father leaving after his little sister was born and Lee’s father deciding to stay in Flagstaff with his new family. They both like horror movies, fast music, video games, and lazy days.

Thick as thieves, is how their mothers came to describe them independently, and eventually, that’s what they evolved into.

*Editor’s note:
To read other story entries, just search for On any given day at the top of the page.

Copyright © 2019 – The JEFFWORKS

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“She could be a professional smiler, ” Barton thought. “If there was such a thing.”

He stood at his register mindlessly passing the goods from Mrs. Fromeyer’s cart, one at a time, across the scanner. He waved each item back and forth over the single, red-flashing laser eyeball of the machine that logged the purchases until it noted success with a short, innocuous beep.

April, who stood at lane number 7, just two registers away, did the same work, but with more…

Words flashed across his mind as he sought out just the right one. Style? Flair? Zest?

Panache.

Yes, panache was it to a T. It felt like an old word. Like something his grandmother might say, but it fit April and what she was doing in this moment perfectly. While he scanned by rote, April talked to people. She was genuine. She cared. She gave little tidbits of information about the products the people were buying and asked them about their day.

Even though she had a scrunchy at the ready on her wrist, she kept her hair down most of the time. It constantly fell across her face, which required that she constantly pull it back and tuck it behind her ear. An exercise in futility for the hair, but for him each pull back revealed that amazing smile. It hit him like a kid watching a magician pulling his cape back to reveal the end of an amazing illusion.

Barton looked around the store. Most people don’t smile. Mrs. Fromeyer wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smiling. They were all capable of smiling, sure, but everyone seemed to dole them out as if they were a precious and limited resource best used exclusively for special occasions.

Not April though. If smiling was a precious and limited commodity that should be tightly managed, nobody told her. She had smiles for everyone. She had smiles for no one. She looked as though she could have been born with a smile on her face. She could have been the hardest birth known to humanity and Barton could only imagine the new infant April lying in a small hospital crib and struggling to “make it” – all while smiling.

It was a sweet smile, natural and full. It fit her face perfectly. It never faded. If it ever went away, and he was pressed to think of a time when that happened, you could rest assured that a new fresh smile was coming up to take its place any second.

When some people smile, it looks forced, fake, off-putting in some cases and foreign in others, as if gracing the face it sat on was a mistake. It’s not that these people are unhappy, but more that they are not properly gifted with adequate smile features.

April’s face was made for smiling. Whatever bone structure and musculature nature set up for her provided the optimum conditions for maximum smile efficiency. She had more than a mouth smile. Her whole head was symmetrical and balanced. The trigger of the smile caused her eyes to widen just so to add that extra gleam to them and a subtle, soft blush would grace her cheeks with just the right amount of color. It was art. She was smile incarnate.

He could imagine her face on magazines, billboards, giant animated screens and on TV, not hawking cars and overpriced, sludge-creating, high-speed juicing machines, no. That did not suit her. Instead, she would represent ideals, assurances and lofty aspirations, inspiring  those seeking help or who search for a pathway to a better existence to take those steps needed to be who they want to be in this life. Quit smoking. Read books. Meditate. Recycle. Save puppies. Feed the homeless. Use energy efficient LED light bulbs. Retire at Shady Oaks. Consider Tyler Funeral Home the best option for your loved ones as they head to the great unknown. And more.

He knew he was staring. He tried not to, but still he found himself looking without looking, gauging her movements to make sure that if she were to look up, he could effectively shift his gaze off to some other direction without getting caught with his eyes on her like some distant, creepy, stalker.

He was not proud, but it could not be helped. In his 19 and three-quarter years of life, he had never encountered such a force. It knocked him off balance. Yet, in 19 and three-quarters years of life, he still he knew well the notions of fate and impermanence. His best friend “for life” David Berkingham moved away that fateful day in June the year they both turned eight and look how that turned out. It was like David never existed. Nothing lasts forever. So if the universe saw fit to align his path with that of April Timmons and the smile that could generate universal peace and harmony, who was he to argue?

*Editor’s note:
To read other story entries, just search for On any given day at the top of the page.

Copyright © 2018 – The JEFFWORKS

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