Red Purse -FFM 2015, Day 5-

"Hello, ma'am. How can I help you?"

The customer's expensive red purse doesn't blend well with her old t-shirt and bluejeans. She holds it tightly against her body while fixing me with a strange, pouty look.

Wordlessly, she deposits a package of powdered donuts, two soda bottles, and a jug of windshield washer fluid onto the counter.

I begin scanning the items into the register, starting with the donuts. "It's a gorgeous day, isn't it?" I say, trying to make small talk; though my statement isn't entirely true. There are enough clouds to subdue the sky's usual brilliant blues, but not enough to paint the day gray. It's a pretty-okay day, at best.

The purse-bearing customer continues staring at me with her frumpy face; I try not to stare back at her out-of place red purse. I instead pick up a soda and scan it twice: one, two.

"Mommy, look!" Says a child further back in the gas station store, pointing roughly in my direction. His mother quickly hushes him up.

It's an interesting feat, trying to scan the big, heavy jug of washer fluid, but I manage it. I push it back to purse-lady. "$8.52," I tell her.

She opens her red purse and passes me a ten.

A man walks up from behind purse-lady and peers around her. He frowns a little at me.

"Sir?" I say, counting out purse-lady's change and passing it to her.

"The pump I was using quit working," he says.

"Okay, I'll get a manager on it right away," I say as I slip the donuts and sodas into a paper bag.

I slide the bag over to purse-lady. "Here you go," I say, "have a nice day."

Wearing the same funky scowl she came to me with, she collects her things and leaves the store without a word.

I hum ponderously as I raise a talon to my beak and rub it. I self-consciously ruffle my wing feathers. I know I've been molting lately, but I didn't think it looked that bad.