Guinevere’s maroon shoes were soaked. The cherry material was permeated with a liquid, blending to and transforming the original color to a more saturated scarlet. Her indigo jeans were covered with russet splatters and random wet patches around her calves. She had just sauntered through the automatic doors of the convenience store, burgundy shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. As she strode through the store she was given multiple looks from fellow customers ranging from concern to extreme cautiousness. She approached the cashier with her assorted items. “It’s a rough night outside, huh?” Guinevere looked up at the middle-aged woman and then looked at her nametag. “Yes, Janice, it is. I wasn’t expecting this kind of destructive, tumultuous weather in September.” The cashier looked off guard, as if weighing her next response. It appeared that she chose not to answer at all. Janice looked at the items she had rung up; there was a lemon container of Lysol wipes, violet rubber gloves, and a box of heavy duty trash bags. “That’ll be $10.62, please.” Janice held up her hand warily as she accepted the money from the haggard girl. Guinevere accepted her change and grabbed her bag rushing out of the store. After arriving at her home, she charged through the door whilst ripping open the Lysol container. “Thank God you’re here; I thought the stain was starting to set.” Guinevere’s mother was bent over a mess of red and brown. “Yeah, it was cheaper than I thought, here. Next time you want to use the ketchup bottle, don’t squeeze it while it’s still closed, and if you do, do it away from my soda. My jeans are ruined!”
