The Emporium of Crossings Fiction by Sabrina Vourvoulias
At the Emporium of Crossing all of the choices are scary...
The bell clangs as if dispelling demons.
It doesn’t. But people who walk in to my store thinking to buy, or sell, or even those looky-lous who are simply bored and wander in without intention, cross my threshold. And crossing costs. So, I provide a little mnemonic prod....
I hear the girls making their careful way over to me as I open and close the tiny drawers of one of the antique specimen cases. I reject labels (they offend my aesthetics) but my stock has grown tremendously in the past 20 years, so I can no longer find what I’m looking for on the first, or even fifth, try.
I finally hit the right drawer. I take a long look at what’s within before turning back around to the girls.
If I were human, their bright, curious faces might dissuade me from what I’m going to do.
It’s tough out there for all girls but more so for these daughters of goddesses-turned-saints, with their confusion of languages and loyalties, their conflicting realities.
But I am not human and pity is something I can’t extend.
“Look at this.” I incline my head toward the open drawer....
(excerpt from the short story The Emporium of Crossings, ©2015, Sabrina Vourvoulias)