Friday Evenings

• Ioanna Petropoulou, Grade 10, Roxburgh College
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Beyond Words 2015' competition

The grocery store was empty. It was raining earlier so the floor was filthy, full of water and mud stains. Now and again, somebody would walk past. The lights from the grocery store were the only ones on.
There, Jack was arranging the stock on the shelves. He would look impatiently at the clock. He waited for it to strike six, so that he could finally close the grocery store and go home.
Around twenty minutes to six, June Foster walked in. Her heels made a rhythmical, clinking sound on the tiles. Not a single strand of her carefully braided hair out of place.
“Hello Jack.” She smiled at him.
“Good evening Mrs Foster. How are you?”
June Foster was standing only a few feet away. Jack could see every single detail of her face. From the tiniest freckle on her cheek, to individual cracks on her cherry red lips. June Foster's visit was an odd, yet incredibly pleasant one. She rarely ever came shopping on Fridays. Jack grabbed a can of peas.
“Rodney caught me without any vegetables in the house today! We usually go out on Fridays, Rodney and I, but he's tired tonight.”
Jack's gaze was fixed on her. Her smile was nothing short of divine. He didn't want their conversation to end.
“Thank you Jack. Good night.” The rhythmic clinking started once again as June Foster began to leave the grocery store. She was clearly impatient to get home to her beloved husband. She adored Rodney. Jack felt jealousy running through his veins. It was supposed to be him. He was the one who June Foster was supposed to rush to get home too. He despised Rodney for that.
It was finally closing time. Jack was about to turn off the lights, when a policeman walked in.
“Hello.” He was holding a notepad.
“Good evening officer! How can I help you?”
“About twenty minutes ago, was Mrs June Foster here?”
“Yes!” Jack nearly shouted. “Yes she was.”
What happened to her? Did Rodney hurt her?
“Why do you ask officer?”
“When she got home, she found her husband dead in their living room.”
Jack was desperately trying to hide a wicked smile from his face.
“Rodney's dead? I, I can't believe it! Was there a break in?”
“Not very likely. It looked like a targeted murder. And Rodney Foster the target.”
Jack could feel June's love, lingering just outside his grasp. His turn had finally come.
Jack told the officer everything about his encounter with June.
“I see. Thank you for your help Sam.” The policeman was clearly disappointed.
“Anytime. I really hope you find the culprit. Poor Mrs Foster.”
Jack almost felt guilty. He should have, and would have said something, were it anybody else other than June. Not June. Perhaps Jack was the only person who knew the truth. A burglar would make sense, a targeted murder however...
Jack turned off the lights.
They do usually go out on Fridays after all.