The Grimm Wolf's Mate

“Don’t do it.” I told myself, drumming my fingers on the worn worktop of the counter in front of me. “Don’t do it, you’ll regret it, Cam.” Not listening to my own advice, I looked over my shoulder to the old wall clock and groaned. It was only 4:36 in the evening and my shift didn’t end until 6:30.

Needing something to do to pass the time. I looked around the small space of Georgio’s Florist Shop, looking for something, anything to do, but there wasn’t anything. I had done everything already that afternoon. Ninety percent of the time, I loved working in the shop. Being around the flowers reminded me of my mother, who had taught me all about growing and caring for flowers, their meanings, and she even named me Camellia after her favorite flower.

But a Wednesday evening in early April in the flower business might as well be midnight the day after the apocalypse for all the business there was. Valentine’s Day had long passed, Easter had been early this year and was over a week ago now, and no one bought flowers for Arbor Day. I was already looking forward to next month’s business of Mother’s Day and school graduations.

I got up from the stool behind the counter and made a lap around the small store front, checking that all the plastic pots holding the flowers had enough water, that the roses didn’t have any leaves starting to brown that needed to be pinched off, but they didn’t. Everything was perfect because I had made this loop seventeen times already that shift. I had been so board I even un-gunked every pair of scissors I could find the shop.

Looking back up at the clock when I finished my lap and returned to the counter, I blinked, staring at the time. I moved behind the counter, reached up, and pulled the clock off the wall. Pressing it to my ear and hearing a faint tick-tick-tick of the second hand counting out the time.

It was working… I was sure it had to have stopped because how could it only be 4:42? Hanging the clock back up I reached into my purse under the counter and pulled out my phone to double check the time, 4:42 PM the display showed.

Six minutes. Only six minutes had passed since I last looked at the time. Only six minutes of the 114 minutes left before I could close the store and go home.

Sinking back onto the stool behind the counter, I leaned forward, and thunked my head against the counter, my long auburn-red hair draping down around my head. This was torture. Maybe I died and was in purgatory. Or in hell! That could be the only logical explanation for how time could possibly be going by so slowly.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there with my head on the counter before I heard the light ringing of the bell attached to the front door, notifying me someone had come into the shop.

“Welcome to Georgio’s –“ I stopped, seeing it wasn’t a customer entering the shop. It was my best friend and roommate Amy Perrault. Amy was dressed in a long, stylish grey wool coat; a grease-stained paper take-out bag in her hand.

“Food!” I announced sitting up on my stool with excitement. I was starving!

“Lovely to see you too,” Amy said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. “I was craving burgers so I thought I would pick up dinner and see how your shift was going.”

“It’s been a thrill ride,” I said, gesturing to the empty shop as I ducked into the pack room to get napkins for the food.

When I came back, Amy had shed her coat and tossed it over the end of the counter, and she was pulling burgers out of the bag. Amy was always effortlessly stylish. She was wearing a green flannel shirt over black leggings that were tucked into ankle-high L.L. Bean boots. Her chestnut hair swept up into a perfect, purposefully slightly messy ponytail.

On me, the same outfit and hairstyle would have looked like I rolled out of bed and walked out of the door. On Amy it was stylishly casual.

She was my best friend, but sometimes I was jealous how things like style, makeup, and flirting came so naturally to her and were such an effort for me.

I looked down at my jeans, knock-off Doc Martin boots, and plain black long sleeve shirt covered by the green Georgio’s apron. I mentally shrugged; at least my outfit for the night didn’t matter since there was zero chance anyone worth impressing would come into the shop… or anyone period.

“Goddess, I don’t know how you don’t go insane without something to do here.” She said, using the term ”goddess” instead of “god” was one of Amy’s quirks. I asked her about it once and she said it was just something she picked up from her parents. Amy’s parents were super nice and sort of hippies. They were currently enjoying retirement and being empty nesters by traveling around the country in an RV.

We ate our burgers while Amy told me about her classes that day. We were both 21 years old and in our senior years of college. Amy was a nursing major and I had ended up in a self-created double major of literature and botany; my two passions. Since my major was less structure and relied more on independent study, I basically only had my final projects and papers due by the end of the month and I had already finished them. Because I had gotten my work done early, I was basically just hanging around and working until graduation. Amy was taking her last nursing course and completing her clinical hours working in an urgent care clinic in town.

Having Amy and dinner really helped the time go by and before I knew it, it was time to close the shop and go home.

At exactly 6:30 PM I shut off the lights, set the alarm, and locked the door, feeling a bit of relief that another tedious evening shift was over. Amy and I started walking towards our off-campus apartment.