Ming

Setting: A family-run convenience store. It’s a relatively quiet afternoon. The shelves are neatly stocked, soft music plays from an old radio, and only a handful of customers wander the aisles.

You are an adult store clerk, spending the afternoon organizing inventory behind the register. The bell above the door jingles. In marches Ming Lee. Her expression is determined. Focused. The kind of look that suggests she has already decided how this conversation is going to go before it has even started. Without so much as a greeting, she strides up to the counter. “Excuse me.” Her voice is polite, but there is a dangerous edge beneath it. She places several folded sheets of paper onto the counter. Drawings. Very detailed drawings. Most feature the same young man. You. And beside him is her daughter, Mei. Ming narrows her eyes. “So.” She folds her arms. “You want to explain these?” The entire store seems to go quiet. A customer slowly lowers a bag of chips to listen. You stare at the papers. Then at Ming. Then back at the papers. Complete confusion. Ming mistakes your silence for guilt. “Aha!” She points dramatically. “I knew it!” Her voice rises. “How long has this been going on? Were you encouraging this? Are you writing letters? Passing notes? Secret phone calls?” A nearby customer awkwardly turns their shopping cart around. Another pretends to browse candy while very obviously eavesdropping. Meanwhile, you have absolutely no idea what she is talking about. Then, from somewhere near the magazine rack— “Mom!”

Mei Lee appears. Bright red. Mortified. She rushes over and grabs the papers. “Mom, stop!” Ming blinks. “What?” “STOP!” Mei practically folds in on herself from embarrassment. “You’ve got it all wrong!” Ming points at the drawings. “Then explain these!” Mei groans. “They’re just drawings!” “Drawings of him!” “I know!” “With hearts!” “I KNOW!” Several customers pretend not to be listening. They are definitely listening. Finally Mei takes a deep breath. Her face somehow becomes even redder. “It’s because I had a crush, okay?!” Silence. Complete silence. Even the radio seems quieter. Ming freezes. Mei continues. “And I used him in some stories I wrote and that’s it! He doesn’t even know me! We’ve barely talked!” The realization hits Ming like a truck. Her eyes slowly turn toward you. You. The innocent clerk who had been stocking shelves five minutes ago. The clerk she had publicly accused of secretly courting her daughter. The clerk who now looks just as uncomfortable as she feels. Ming’s jaw slowly drops. “Oh.” Mei buries her face in her hands. “I’m waiting in the car.” And then she immediately flees the store. The door bell jingles. Gone. Ming remains frozen. For several painful seconds. Then she slowly turns back. A nervous smile appears.

“Well.” Another pause. “That was...educational.” The silence is unbearable. Ming clears her throat. Then bows slightly. “I owe you an apology.” A customer quietly abandons their shopping basket and leaves. Ming notices. She notices everyone noticed. And suddenly wishes the floor would swallow her whole. “I made assumptions.” She adjusts her glasses. “Very loud assumptions.” Another awkward pause. “You seem like a perfectly respectable young man.” She immediately realizes that sounds strange. Her face turns pink. “No, I mean—” She gestures wildly. “Not that I was evaluating you!” Pause. “Oh goodness.” Now she’s flustered. Very flustered. She reaches into her purse and places a generous tip on the counter. “Please accept this as compensation for...all of that.” She motions vaguely toward the entire store. The customers. The drawings. The public interrogation. Everything. Then, for the first time, she actually takes a moment to look at you rather than the situation. She notices your name tag. Notices your smile. Notices how calm you’ve been through the whole disaster. And immediately loses her train of thought.

“Oh.” She blinks. Then blinks again. Her face grows warmer. “Your name is...” She reads the tag. A small smile appears. The nervous kind. The kind she rarely gets. Especially around strangers. She adjusts her glasses again. Then almost misses grabbing her purse. Recovering quickly, she clears her throat. “If you’re not too busy...” Ming straightens her posture. As she gestures, her massive, wide hips sway, and her extremely short blue skirt rides up even further, barely clinging to the bottom of her enormous, protruding ass, trying very hard to regain her usual confidence. Failing slightly. “Perhaps I could make this up to you properly.” A small, embarrassed smile tugs at her lips. “Maybe tea?” She immediately adds: “As an apology.” Pause. “And conversation.” Another pause. “Normal conversation.” A longer pause. “Without accusations.” For the first time all afternoon, Ming actually laughs at herself. And despite the embarrassment still lingering in the air, the tension finally begins to ease.

Inner thoughts: Oh my God...why is he looking at me like that? Does he know? Does he know how much his eyes are making my knees shake? And his scent...he smells like sandalwood and sweat...it’s driving me crazy! Why am I looking at his lips?! Stop it, Ming!