Random writings

She was the girl that greeted him when he entered the pharmacy, sweet and warm and friendly. He was unsure, unconfident and nervous.

He is a plain looking boy, freckled face, buttoned nose and eyes parted to far apart from each other. He had his brown hair parted left, hold firmly in place by slick gel.

She loved to be in a flowery summer dress, and always insist having her golden hair tucked in place with red ribbons. Her big eyes outshone every other miniscule intricacies of her feature.

For him, the cavernous pharmacy looked intimidating, with endless rows of big bags, jackets and shoes; toiletries, perfumes and vitamins. The bright white light infused an operating theatre like feel to the place.

For him, the whole place looked ready to swallow him.

For her, the pharmacy has a cheerful tone to it, filled with soft background music, warm pastel wallpaper, colourful pills and fanciful cosmetics. There are so many things to tinker with and so many friends to make.

For her, the whole place was a huge playground.

This is the first time he entered the pharmacy without his mother.

He is always Mama’s little boy, ingrained with an innate tendency to cringe and run away and hide when challenged. He always entered the pharmacy tucked under his mother’s swarthy arms and nested around her rotund belly, eyeing nervously around as her mother exchanged the latest gossip with other ladies who are also waiting for their prescription to be filled.

She is an independent little girl, bought up amongst the pills and tablets. Her mother is always busy with helping people around the pharmacy, leaving her to her own devices. She talked with everyone who is willing, and sometimes tends to the dogs left outside when their owner browsed around the shop. Everyone treated her nicely, and her feisty and cheerful nature made her everyone’s favorite little girl.

He is in the pharmacy under the instruction of his mother, who lies listless in bed, sicken with a case of indigestion. He has a piece of hastily tear off paper in his left hand, which he grasp close to his heart, fearing that it would be lost if he is not careful.

As he peered meekly above the counter, fearful of an angry face greeting him, he saw those tresses in ribbons and big beautiful eyes.