The Line

George stepped out of the car and laid one foot down before stopping to see the throng already at the doors, and he was parked several hundred feet away. He let the other foot emerge from the car and hit the ground.

Several other people whisked by without a word, clutching purses, pushing carts, holding babies, but one thing was common: everyone had their hands full. No one strolled up to the back of the mob like George, hands in his pockets, feeling each foot hit the cold ground silently. Except for that tiny squeak in his left foot. He’d have to get that fixed, maybe.

He stood behind a couple of unfortunate shorter customers jumping up and down to see the doors. They finally gave up and one jumped on the shoulders of the other, tottering in the crowd and bumping others who were none to happy about the interruption to their single focus.

“Watch it!” They barked.

“What’s going on?” Asked George.

“The fluffy puff is going on sale this morning. First edition! Limited run!” The one on the shoulder yelled.

“How could you not know that?” Said the other, and she rolled her eyes.

George shrugged and walked around the left. It might take a while to get there as the people kept pouring in. He heard titles screech and horns honk. A few obscenities in the distance. Crying babies.

“Poor kid,” Thought George. “He think this is some kind for war zone.”

A group of young teenagers rolled right past him, two pushing and two someone crammed inside a shopping cart. All of them also had big reuseable shopping bags and look that should be reserved for hungry animals. They got up to the back to the crowd and yelled a triumphant “WOOOOOOO!”

Another man tried shoving his way through the crowd. George heard something about “I have reservations” and “I know the manager.” No excuse me or such. The crowd didn’t tried pushing back but he was big enough that most didn’t want to bother. He saw the man flaring a wad of cash like a fan in front of him, showing his biceps that looked like he was hiding a small watermelon in his shirt.

“Huh,” said George. What in the world does he want these things for?

As George made it to edge of the tapering crowd, he slowly glided his way down the living edge of people, some on their phones distracting themselves, others talking about how many they were going to buy and how much they’d get reselling them on eBay.

“Ah,” said George.

He made it up to the door level, and to the side of the building. But it didn’t step ward. He went to the side of the building. Took out his keys and opened up metal door and slid inside.