Melanie was still a little scattered, mind and heart racing as she went about the preparations to open the shop for the day. A quick dusting of the shelves, running over the carpeted floor with a vacuum, organizing the till, and opening the curtains. The heavy velvet brushed the floor as she tied them off, letting in the morning light, reflected off of the building across the way.
The windows reached from floor to ceiling, framing the glass door in the centre. Carefully placed lettering decorated the windows, advertising the selection, though no name was in sight.
She flipped the sign to open once she was sure she was ready, hooking the chain to block off the upstairs, and settling in a tall chair behind the counter.
Her clothes were carefully picked, though...she didn't necessarily know that. As far as she was concerned, she had just grabbed the first thing that jumped out at her, and put it on.
A supportive, if slightly thin top--given the decent support built into the shirt, she hadn't bothered with a bra, though if she were leaving home, she certainly would have. It was a silvery white, with a grey trim. She was hardly aware of how visible her breasts were in the light streaming through the window. A pair of grey denim shorts showed off her ass, worn over the top of white fishnets, with a pair of leather boots. A crystalline charm from one of the shelves hung from a black ribbon just below her collar-bone.
Mmm...perhaps this wasn't appropriate to wear for work? But then, it wasn't as if she had a boss to answer to. And her customers were unlikely to complain, given the nature of the shop. Really, it was rare to get the uptight customers in. Most of them were curious young adults, or teenagers sent by their parents to pick up something. It was close enough to the residential areas to be convenient to walk to, but not so far from other shopping that people who were uncomfortable with the occult would come in very often.
Maybe this outfit was fine...besides, it wasn't as if she were -leaving.-
The morning was pleasant enough, though few customers trickled in, most having assumed they'd closed for good in the last month the Shop had been shut down, or at least that was what Melanie assumed. She took the opportunity to check expiry dates, and face the shelves, but there was only so much busy work she could engage in. Somehow, even after a vacant month, the place was nearly immaculate, save some dust here and there. Even snacks that looked like they should have stopped being manufactured years ago weren't set to go off for another month.
It gave her plenty of time for her mind to wander. Given recent events, that wasn't necessarily a good thing. It was easy to think about how she was the last one left in her family. Her uncle had raised her, after she lost her parents, shortly after they had tried to run away to America. If not for her uncle David's passing, she'd have tried the same thing, in fact. There had been a promising journalism job for her out there.
A sudden, almost startling feeling of repulsion spiked through her head. How could she even think of leaving, now, though? It would be abandoning the only thing that mattered. She couldn't possibly even consider leaving the country now. Even leaving the city would have to be carefully planned, and considered, especially before she had some trustworthy employees working under her.
Unthinking, an affectionate hand ran over the countertop in front of her, mossy green eyes unfocused as it did. She was slouching on the stool behind the checkout, large breasts pressed into it, almost causing her to spill out of her top.
_________
Shop took the opportunity to nudge and prod her mind a little more, as the afternoon warmth blew in through the open front entrance. She was surprisingly malleable, moreso than any of its previous owners had been. It would be remarkably easy to make her think that what would come next was all her idea.
It watched and encouraged, as she empty-headedly saw to the more mundane needs of the place. At the same time, it watched through its windows for the ideal customer.
A thrill of greedy delight sparked through it when it found him, finally revealing itself to a passerby, putting out the sort of enticing vibes that would manipulate the man into coming inside. It was all a slight strain on the energy it still had, but this was important to get right.
_________
It was well into late afternoon by the time a customer she recognised came into the Shop, drawing her out of her half-conscious stupor.
She sat up a little straighter, as he looked around, flashing him a winning smile, "Oh, 'ello! Mr. Taylor, is that you?"
