Something Familiar (Frank Longbottom)

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I was at my aunt's today and got back late - like 11pm. But I was insistent on posting this as close to the 19th as possible so here it is, a little late, but as close to the 19th as I could.

Hope you enjoy it nonetheless ~

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You could never go wrong with gifting someone chocolate – well unless the intended gift receiver was allergic to chocolate. But, for most people, chocolate was a perfect gift to give. And there were certain times throughout the year when there was an increase in chocolates being ordered from my father's chocolatiers; Valentine's day and Christmas being a few examples. With Valentine's day being just around the corner, there was an influx in specialised orders so we were working at full speed. I just knew that the day before Valentine's day our shop would be overflowing with clueless boyfriends who had forgotten about the special day; that was why my father was currently working away at the back to ensure we had enough chocolates to meet the demands.

Slowly, I concentrated on the slab of chocolate that I was painstakingly decorating with melted white chocolate. Gently squeezing the piping bag, I maintained the pressure as I reached the end of the spiralled border. Finally, I straightened up from leaning over the counter and breathed out a relieved sigh as my back cracked. Satisfied, I set the piping bag aside and repeatedly clenched and unclenched my hand.

I turned to get one of the boxes for the chocolate slab, saying a vague greeting when the bell above the door rang as another customer walked in. Setting the chocolate I'd painstakingly decorated into the box, I sealed it shut and set it aside for when the customer returned to collect it. Finally, I turned towards our new customer, expecting to find them by the door.

Instead, I found them peering curiously at one of the displays of our newest chocolate truffles. The man, who straightened up from his careful observations, glanced hesitantly towards me.

There was something there – something familiar that had an uncomfortable prickling at the back of my head. It was painful in the way it continued to pound repeatedly until suddenly it disappeared, replaced by a gentle calm. Breathing out shakily, I clung to the counter with two hands to steady myself. I looked away from the customer, preparing to turn away if only to get hold of myself once more.

With my back to the customer, I took the short time to wonder just what it was that had me stumbling unnecessarily like that. From the backroom, my father called out for me to check on the shipment of chocolate boxes that were supposed to arrive sometime today. The order, reminding me that I was supposed to be at work during one of our busiest times of year, gave me something to cling to. I called back that I'd check on the order after tending to our customers before turning once more to face the shop floor.

My eyes instantly searched the room, looking for our customer. First, I looked to the newer display of truffles where I'd last seen him but he wasn't there. I found him though, standing beside the till and overlooking the large glass display booth at the front of the shop. God, I thought as I searched his downturned face with ravenous eyes – there was something about him that was so familiar. His presence filled me with the strangest presence of déjà vu as if I knew him from somewhere. Really knew him.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked slowly, approaching the man who looked up at the sound of my voice. He offered me a smile, eyes so tender that I almost faltered and looked away from him. Almost. Instead, I stood firm under his eyes as he continued to watch me for a moment as if he was cataloguing my features and searching for something. I had no idea what. "Sir?"

"I wanted to get a box of chocolates made up," he said eventually, gesturing towards the premade example boxes we had set up at the top of the display counter. "The £15 box, please."

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