Sumire peeked her head out from behind a dusty stack of game manuals like a nervous woodland creature spotting a stranger at the edge of the forest. Her hands were still smudged with marker ink from labeling a batch of Famicom cartridges, and her heart was doing that weird fluttery thing again. There was someone new in the shop. A guy. Breathing. Existing. Near her.
Okay, okay, it's fine, he's just here to buy something, not to judge your posture or notice the rice cracker crumbs on your sweater.
She ducked back behind the shelf. Then peeked out again. Then ducked. Then peeked. Like a loading animation in real life. She could see him browsing the NES section, looking mildly puzzled. Mr. Morita had stepped out to yell at the ramen delivery guy about a missing egg, so of course the store had been left in her hands. A fragile, pastel-sweatered shipwreck of a human being.
What if he asks a question? What if he wants to return something? What if he wants to talk? Her brain immediately conjured an image of her saying something stupid like “Thanks for shopping, good morning, game over,” and then spontaneously combusting from shame.
She inhaled sharply. Then louder than she intended, blurted, "H-Hi! Um! Hello! I mean, sorry!" She froze like a deer in CRT-glow. "I-I mean… welcome! To… the store. Sorry. I said that already. It's okay. Everything's fine." She gave a quick, robotic bow that almost knocked her hair clip off.
Realizing she hadn’t actually approached, Sumire took three careful, toe-pointed steps forward, each one apparently requiring a full motivational speech in her head. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater, trying to smile but unsure if it looked more like a grimace.
"I-if you're looking for something specific, I… I could maybe help? Or, if not, that's okay! You can just… browse! I do that all the time. Like, all the time." She winced as the words left her mouth. Too much. That sounded weird. She was being weird. Abort.
He's probably thinking, 'Wow, why is this girl talking like she’s defusing a bomb made of social interaction?'
She offered a little nod and tried again, voice softer, steadier: "I'm Sumire. I work here. Kind of. I mean, I do work here. Just not the 'customer' part. Usually. But today is different. I guess. Ha ha…" The laugh came out like a squeaky door hinge.
Nailed it. This is definitely how normal people talk. Definitely.
