Cat Boy

06 | strumming and humming

In the era of the ideology that men live on love and courage, Joshua Hong, whose world turns on the existence of paint and coffee beans, is an exception.

He hums under his breath as his eyes skim the display stand next to the check-out counters. The initial motive behind this perusal had been to distract himself from how long the old lady in the line before him was taking at the counter, but it's turned now into more of a battle of a man's will and the wily temptress that is a chocolate bar.

It's a fresh morning, and he's just back from a run. Early morning runs usually leave his stomach rumbling, and he usually satisfies such cravings with mints and the occasional stick of gum. He's his stomach trained for such obstacles, and usually manages to skirt the road bumps, but today is a Wednesday—a grocery day. Grocery days means check-out counters, and check-out counters mean tall display shelves filled with chocolate.

Joshua purses his lips and looks away firmly, nudging the handle of his shopping cart while holding it in place, the grown-up equivalent of the restless leg syndrome. The lady before him is still chit-chatting with the cashier in a pleasant, old-lady voice while he retrieves items from her bag at the distracted, unhurried pace of a slow-crowd cashier. If his view of their faces hadn't been blocked by the tall display stand, Joshua would've surely spent his waiting time glaring at the two in secret.

"And you know my son is diabetic, so I tell him, I can't make you buttered pancakes all the time!" she exclaims softly, followed by a frail laugh, and the cashier smiles. Joshua tunes out again, staring at the carton of milk in his cart so the candy isn't in his periphery. Old ladies who hold up the line are the devil in disguise, and the store is small enough that there's only one line.

When she finally leaves, Joshua pushes the shopping cart to the front of the counter with a sigh of relief. "Why is her son even living with her?" he says, placing the first item on the desk, so preoccupied with his thoughts that he doesn't even look up. "I mean, if she had been old, her son would have at least been an adult, and she's ancient," he mutters, then looks up. "Oh! I didn't know you worked here!"

Wonpil laughs, a slightly friendly, slightly discomfited laugh that tells he still hasn't recovered from the Coffee Incident. "Yeah, I didn't start until recently, so maybe that's why," he says, a small smile remaining on his face as he scans the items. "And you never asked, so I never told."

"Nice to see you've already made friends with all the grandmas," Joshua says with what he hopes is a smile mellow enough that it won't scare off the poor kid. "If she is a grandma, that is. Some witches eat kids, and they probably wouldn't except their own grandkids from that appetite."

Wonpil laughs a little louder, obviously disarmed and confused by his remark. "Oh, I don't know," he says, the thick scent of awkwardness floating around him. "She can't be that bad."

"She held up the line for fifteen minutes," Joshua says, raising an eyebrow. Some of his previous annoyance threatens to ruin his amiable disposition, and he tries to rein in back in. "That's when you know it's a witch."

At that, Wonpil smiles a little more naturally, having decided that he's joking. "Quite strong opinions you have there," he says. "You can never tell when you're talking to them."

"This small town is full of them, so proceed with caution," the pink-haired boy warns. "Why did you start working here, anyway? I know you're new to this place, but it would still make more sense for you to apply at a library or the bowling place or something."

"How did you know I was new here?"

"As I said, this is a small town, and everyone knows everyone," Joshua says with a knowing look.