Huge streetlights illuminated the white froth of the surf, and the air was full of the roar and rush of waves. She took off her shoes and walked along the edge of the water, letting the cool sea whisper over her ankles. Here and there tiki torches cast a flickering golden light over the sand.
One jade plant, thriving just to spite me. Last watered 29 days ago. She bought it at one of those corner store florists on Fraser Street, because the owner said it would bring prosperity. I don’t know if it worked or not. Her money always seemed to turn into stationery or pussy willows or pointless knick-knacks.
The cash register was exactly like the one Ellen had used at the candy shop. It could have been the same one. Seeing it used for decoration, as some trendy antique, was a bit unnerving. She hit the $20 button with a furtive prod, and had a little jolt as the cash drawer burst open with a ding, revealing the dusty husk of a long-dead spider.
The golden lights and strains of music faded away, and the chatter of voices faded to a murmur. She sat down on a large stone in a grove of magnolia trees. Their huge white blossoms hung grey-blue in the darkness. Every so often a petal fell silently to the ground in a slow, feather-like descent.