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    Stared To Death

    | Tolna, Hungary | Bizarre, Books & Reading

    (I’m a regular at a small bookstore that a kindly old lady opened some years ago. We’ve been friends for as long as I’ve known her, and chat when there are no customers around. I walk up to the counter and see her talking to a woman in her late fifties. I’m an Emo, though uncharacteristically cheerful at the moment. I wear black, causal clothes most of the time.)

    Me: “Good day, how’s it going?”

    (She notices me, smiles, but motions me to move. Realizing I butted into their conversation, I sheepishly back away so they can continue. The customer is staring at me with her mouth wide open.)

    Me: “Umm…”

    (My friend and I exchange looks. I don’t believe she understands what’s going on either.)

    Me: “I’m sorry; is something wrong?”

    (The customer doesn’t answer or react in any way, and just keeps staring for what feels like minutes.)

    Me: “…is there something on me?”

    Customer: “…”

    Me: “Lady?”

    Customer: “…”

    (My friend seems worried as she observes our rather one-sided conversation. I’m starting to get annoyed, and a little scared.)

    Me: “It’s impolite to stare at others, you know.”

    Customer: “…”

    (At this point it occurs to me she could have issues with my hairstyle. I pull my bang aside, but nothing changes.)

    Me: “Okay, what?”

    Customer: “…”

    Me: “What is it?!”

    My Friend: “Ah, I know! It’s because you’re wearing black! She thinks you’re attending a funeral, and since you were so happy—”

    (The customer immediately snaps out of it and confirms this. She actually thinks I am happy because someone died. After five years, we still talk about the woman whom my fashion statement sent into catatonia, and my friend, the store owner, who’s apparently psychic.)