He felt the rustle of the door opening behind him, the wind glancing against the back of his neck, before immediately the door was shut closed as if it had never opened in the first place. He turned around and there she was. The lady with the gloves.
He felt the breath leave his chest, as if sucked away by her presence. Having just walked inside she had yet to notice him. Quickly, he turned and walked away so as to avoid her gaze, the gaze that was known to burn souls. He once had a co-worker who had fallen victim to the gaze. He was not the same. He had yet to recover and spent most of his days staring at nothing in particular.
She was a ghastly looking figure. She was large, though not obese and her face was squished-looking as if someone had taken a battering ram and had driven it into her face multiple times. Her mouth twitched when it spoke as if the mouth had not come with her head and had been stitched on. And of course there was the gaze. You could never look straight into her eyes. Doing so would invite the end.
What distinguished her however were the gloves, not far off from extra-large sized medical gloves. She always wore those sea blue gloves, as if her survival depended on it. And maybe it did. He did not know.
Sometimes he thought he could see some blood dripping down her gloves, but he never looked too carefully. He did not dare look her way unless it was completely necessary.
Having departed from her presence, he suddenly felt warmer, as if she carried with her the frost of the outside world. He glanced her way briefly, relieved to find that she was scouring the shelves of books. He turned back and went back to what he had been doing prior to her arrival.
He counted the paperwork, checking to see that all the paperwork was accurate, trying not to think of the lady with the gloves waiting nearby, as if she was waiting to pounce.
Suddenly he heard the rumbling sounds of someone approaching the desk. He knew it had to be her. There was no one else who could make such noise.
He looked up and smiled, ensuring that he avoided her gaze.
“Is this on sale?!” she screeched, pulling out a book she had picked out from the shelf.
“I will check for you”, he said continuing to smile. He could not falter. Doing so would show his weakness.
He scanned the book, checking the price. He gulped. It was regular price.
“Sorry it looks like it’s regular price.”
“But it was on the 40% bestsellers shelf! It should be on sale!
“Let me double check for you.”
He scanned it again, and unsurprisingly the price didn’t change. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her remove her light blue gloves, the blood dripping onto the counter in the process. As she pulled off her gloves, he was reminded of a snake shedding its skin for new, fresh skin. Except beneath her gloves, there was no fresh skin. There was no skin at all. He could see the muscles and the ligaments beneath. He had to look away. It was making him ill.
“Oh you’re right. It’s 40%. Let me change that for you.”
“I’ll be back. Leave that at the counter.”
He complied. Anything less would be suicide.
Quickly, she slipped on her gloves, much to his relief and departed the desk, walking away to scour a different area of the store.
He let out a sigh of relief. That was too close. He looked down at the counter where there now sat a pool of blood, slowly staining the desk. He gulped.
He returned back to the paperwork, going back and forth, checking everything for accuracy. He looked up and scanned the area in front to check up on the lady with the gloves. She was nowhere to be seen. Had she left? Surely he would have heard.
He looked left and right, but it was as if she had disappeared. He felt sick to his stomach at his inability to locate her.
Suddenly, he felt a chill, a coldness that hit the exterior of his body. It could only mean one thing.
Slowly he turned around to face the wall behind him and there she was; watching, waiting, her gloves pulled up as far as they could go. He took a step back, trying to delay the inevitable, as if he could somehow escape her, but he knew it was too late.
She grinned, evidently having noticed his agony, his heightened fear of her presence. There was nothing he could do.
“Is this on sale?” she whispered.
Then she lunged.
