The thing about working retail is that nothing surprises you anymore. Karens demanding refunds for clothes they wore to a wedding? Sure. Teenagers trying to steal lip gloss by eating it? Whatever. But when I’m doing final rounds and notice that the mannequin in the summer clearance section has my sister’s birthmark — the weird one that looks like Elvis — I have to pause.
“Rachel?” I whisper, because talking to mannequins after hours is definitely normal behavior.
The mannequin, posed in last season’s midi dress (marked down 70%, still overpriced), doesn’t move. Obviously. But that’s Rachel’s crooked nose, the result of a teenage skateboarding incident that Mom still brings up at Christmas.
I check my phone. No texts from Rachel in three weeks, which isn’t unusual. She’s always disappearing on “spiritual journeys” that usually end with collect calls from hostels in countries I can’t pronounce.
“If you tried to return something to the universe again, I swear to god…” I mutter, remembering the time she attempted to return her entire sophomore year of college. The universe’s customer service department was not amused.
I’m about to call Mom — because that’s what dutiful daughters do when they find their sisters turned into retail fixtures — when I notice the small gold plaque on the display platform:
LOST & FOUND DEPARTMENT ITEM: ONE (1) LIFE TRAJECTORY STATUS: PENDING PAYMENT RECOVERY FEE: THREE YEARS OF GOOD DECISIONS
Oh, Rachel. What did you do?
I dig through my pockets, finding the store’s barcode scanner. It’s ancient, held together with duct tape and prayers, but it’s the only thing we have that can read the weird quantum tags corporate keeps adding to merchandise.
“Please work, please work,” I mutter, running it over the plaque. The scanner makes a sound like a dial-up modem having an existential crisis.
UNIVERSAL RETURN RECEIPT #847562 CUSTOMER: RACHEL MARTINEZ REASON FOR RETURN: “THIS ISN’T THE LIFE I ORDERED” STATUS: INSUFFICIENT STORE CREDIT
“Ma’am?” A voice behind me makes me jump. It’s the night janitor, except he’s wearing a suit now, and his mop bucket says “COSMIC CUSTOMER SERVICE” in glowing letters. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re interested in this particular display model.”
“She’s my sister,” I say, wondering when my life turned into a Douglas Adams novel. “And she’s not a display model. She’s just… really bad at adulting.”
He consults a tablet that definitely isn’t from this dimension. “Ah yes, Ms. Martinez. Attempted to return her entire life path because, and I quote, ‘Mercury is in retrograde and my chakras are misaligned.’” He sighs. “We get a lot of those.”
“How much to get her back?”
“The fee is non-negotiable. Three years of good decisions.”
I look at mannequin-Rachel’s frozen face. “Can I pay it for her?”
He brightens. “Family plan discount! That’ll be one year of good decisions, plus you have to delete your ex’s number from your phone.”
I already have my phone out. “Deal.”
Image made with Midjourney.
Prompt provided by NoGENver, GoOnWrite.
Flash Fiction written by S. J. Pajonas with assistance from Claude 3.5 Sonnet.
You can listen to this on YouTube at https://youtu.be/oxRifMiYPSg
