Finding The Five || FNAF Movie

3 || Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place

(Unedited, 5641 words)
Trigger Warnings: Discussions about death, description of a death

I get to the grocery store at seven forty, much later than I expected, and quickly head inside to enjoy the warmth and buy a large plastic water bottle so I'll have something to drink tonight. While I wait for Michael Schimdt to show up, I make a plan to go grocery shopping after work tomorrow using the money I get from tonight. That way, when I get paid Sunday, I'll basically have all the money I spend on groceries replenished, which will feel nice. 

Sometimes I amaze myself with the amount of time I spend worrying about money and where it's coming from and where it's going, and other times I kick myself for not thinking about it enough. Either way, Jonah's joke is probably right. I do probably need therapy to help me obsess over money a little less. But guess who can't pay for it. How ironic. 

I wasn't like this a few months ago. Back when I didn't have a house and was just trying my best working day-to-day jobs so I could pay for simple things. But once I got solid jobs and a chance at having a roof over my head, I fell down a rabbit hole I can't claw my way out of. 

I find myself obsessing over a lot of things nowadays, whereas back then I was just a leaf in the wind, trying not to get crushed. Now I worry about money, I have a schedule for shampoo in my head (carefully crafted so I can stretch the contents out as far as possible), I know exactly what kind of bread to buy and what time of day to get it at, I have notes about the prices of various items in different stores. My life has become consumed by things I know normal people don't even think about. 

But my obsessions are also driven by fear. I've noticed that recently. My mind if often clouded by a single thought: I lived without these obsessions before, but now what? What if the local market doesn't have the cheap bread and I can't afford the more expensive one? Will I know where to go to get bread, or will I have a backup plan with something cheaper that can last me for as long as a loaf of bread can? Can I support myself if I have to buy a more expensive loaf of bread, or will that completely crumble my system? 

Fear keeps my obsessions alive. And it keeps me from trying to rid myself of them.

I don't know what I'm going to do when rent raises. 

At eight, I head out of the grocery store and stand next to the giant ice cooler out front. No less than a minute later, a car pulls into the parking lot and sits near the edge for a moment before pulling into a spot far off to my right. I wait, not willing to approach it in case it's the wrong person. After a second, a man steps out and closes the door, putting his hands in his pockets and stepping up onto the sidewalk. 

He makes his way towards the entrance, and I'm careful to note the moment he notices me and how he smiles softly and slows his stride. "Josephine Sterling?" he asks, coming close enough that I can see his features in the glow of the grocery store. 

"Michael Schmidt?" I return, examining his slightly curled brown hair and the stubble littering his face. His brown eyes are smiling on their own, but his cold-weather-cracked lips are what truly tip me off to how he's feeling. Other than, you know, the fact I can feel his emotions anyway. 

"Hi, good to see you," he comments, "I didn't notice you at first, I figured I had gone to the wrong grocery store." 

"Nope, I'm just hiding from the wind," I admit, gesturing to the ice cooler. 

"Thank you again for agreeing to this," he chimes, "I just want to know why we keep having nightmares." 

"That's understandable," I reply before nodding to his car. "We should get going then."