THE FRUIT GLISTENED under the gleam of the flickering fluorescent tubes on the ceiling, so it looked like it had been dipped in a crystal-clear glaze. The skin of the apple Finn had placed on top of the pyramid-shaped pile was completely flawless. There wasn’t a single brown spot or scratch in the lime-green membrane that was stretched tight over the juicy fruit flesh inside.
He took a step back, admiring his work of art. There wasn’t much left to do now. Most of the day’s boxes had been emptied. The lemons, avocados, kiwis, and now also the apples were neatly stacked like cheerleaders in perfect formations. Balanced on each other’s shoulders, they stretched thirstily up toward the sprinkler system on the ceiling, which rewarded them every thirty seconds with a refreshing drizzle.
It was perfect, quite simply perfect.
The door into Føtex Food slid open behind Finn, and he could sense the child’s presence in the store before he even turned around.
He turned his head and surveyed the child with his eyes.
It was a small boy with big, ice-blue eyes and dark brown hair, wearing an Angry Birds pompom hat. His mittens dangled from strings, hanging out of the sleeves of his down jacket, one farther down than the other, practically touching the dirty terrazzo floor.
Finn smiled at the sight.
The boy walked purposefully over to the refrigerated dairy section and stood on his tiptoes to reach the yogurt drink. He grabbed a bottle of the raspberry flavor and then shuffled around the rest of the store with his hat sitting a little too high on his small head.
Finn eagerly reached for the apple on the top of the pile and was about to approach the boy, when a sharp voice sounded behind him.
“Finn?”
He turned his head in fear.
Anja with the eyelashes stood behind him. The chubby girl who worked the cash register on Mondays. They were glued on, the eyelashes. He could see that. And they weren’t put on all that well. Sometimes there was a whole bouquet of long, black brushes on her cheeks. Thick acrylic tufts that had fallen off without her having noticed it. They stuck to her greasy foundation, looking like little black footprints that had run down her meaty face. An attempt to flee, heading down toward her manly chin dimple.
Finn found her repulsive, gross. And she always thought she got to decide everything.
He reluctantly looked her in the eyes. “Yes?”
“If you go on break now, then Malik will have time to fit in a smoke break afterward, okay?”
Finn turned his face away from her. He looked around for the kid. “Yes, but I just need to …”
“No, now, Finn! You need to go take your break. I get off at five and that’s when I’m leaving.” She tapped a sharp, gel-polished fingernail on the face of her cheap wristwatch.
“I still need to empty the box of mangoes, so if I could just …”
“No!” She pulled the apple out of his hand and set it down hard on top of the pyramid, causing the fruits on the bottom to slip out and ruin the pile’s perfect shape. “You’ll have to do that afterward. Get going!”
“Excuse me …”
An old man wearing a camel hair jacket and a tartan flat cap asked with a polite hand gesture if he could get past in the narrow aisle.
The girl with the eyelashes flashed him a rehearsed smile and stepped aside. Then she looked at Finn, snapped her fingers in a bossy way, and pointed to the staff room before she returned to the cash register.
“Excuse me, where do you keep the plastic bags?” the old man in the flat cap asked.
Without looking at the man, Finn pointed over to the rack with the bags next to the zucchini. He looked around for the boy but couldn’t see him anymore. He must have left again. To Finn, the disappointment felt like a hard jab into unprepared abs.
“Ah, yes. There they are.” The man nodded. He pulled a bag off the roll and shook it once to open it. Then he reached a bony hand out and took the perfect apple from the top of the pile.