1940 |H.S. Dunkirk Au|

dont know about a title

April, 1938
London, England

The store sat empty, as it did most days of the week. Dust regularly collected on the cash register sitting in front of me and its brass keys grew stiff with the lack of activity. With my elbows propped up on the counter, I leaned my weight forward and held my chin in the hand that wasn't busy drumming across the countertop. They tapped in time with the clock ticking on the wall, a constant reminder that I was stuck here on such a lovely day outside.

It was unusually warm for this time of year. Normally covered in a dreary layer of gray, the sidewalks and storefronts shone in the rare-April sunshine, people out and about, taking advantage of the weather. I  was antsy as I watched out the window, hoping that someone, anyone, would walk through the door and give me something to talk about.

Interrupting my impatient thoughts, the radio crackled behind me, static growing more and more prominent in the middle of the broadcast.

"Bugger of a thing," I groaned, turning to walk over and crouch beside it. A look of concertation fell over my face as I moved the dial just so, trying to clean the static from the music. This happened rather often, and I'd become quite good at chasing the signal back to my radio. A cheery swing tune soon emerged from the speakers and I couldn't help but sway with the music as I went back over to the counter. Staying on my toes, I stepped forward and back to the music, moving my hips as I went. Dancing was something I'd learned to love once the nightlife in the city regained momentum after the Depression. Trills of a saxophone and the strict beat of an upright bass kept my energy going as you danced in the small space behind the counter.

I must not have heard the bell chime as someone walked into the store, because I nearly jumped straight out of my skin when I heard a voice clear their throat behind me.

A pair of jade green eyes met my wide ones, a blush quickly taking over my face. The face I starred back at smirked as I tried to catch my breath, finding my fright quite humorous. My hands were still grasping at my shoulders a few seconds later when I'd realized I had simply been standing in front of this man like an idiot.

"I'm... I, uh, sorry," I said shaking my head, "Hello there, what can I do for you?"

The man chuckled in front of me, "S'okay love, don't fret about it," his smile grew more genuine as he spoke, "Yeh've got a good sense of rhythm."

The blush that was beginning to rate was raging on my cheeks once again, "Thank you, sir," I answered, a little unsure of the compliment.

"Alex, please call me Alex," he corrected me, "M'not old enough to be a 'sir' yet."

I nodded again, "Okay, Alex," I said, tongue flirting with his name. It felt different on my lips.

"Quite the firecracker, I see," he raised an eyebrow at me, "Say, have yeh ever been dancing?"

He must've seen my eyes light up at the mention because he pursed his lips waiting for my answer, willing me not to lie.

"I've been a few times, but my father won't let me go out much on my own anymore," I said, shoulders sinking, "You know, because of the Germans."

"Sounds like your father's a good man," he paused for a moment, thinking, "Would he let yeh go if yeh had an escort? Keep yeh safe?"

I turned to look behind me for any prying ears of my family members and then turned back to him, "I'm no prude. I've had my fair share of sneaking out."

Alex looked a bit surprised, "Really?"

"It was only once or twice, got caught by my father coming back home," I laughed, "Guess it's not my calling."