I barely pay attention to what Ray is saying, as I scroll down my messages to something that had just popped up from Pulse.
Notice: Due to the recent cancellation of one of your titles [My (Almost) Miserable Life], you will no longer have the twenty minimum to qualify for the full 20% customer discount on your pull folder. As of June 1st, your discount will be 10%. Thank you for using Pulse.
“Ray, what's this about Miserable Life? I know it's a few months late, but I didn't think they would cancel it. It's just to high-quality and popular.”
“Look, we got the notice on Monday that all current orders on it are cancelled. And this afternoon, there was a press release saying that the title was officially cancelled. It might be back; it might not. It is just too soon to know. If you're worried about your pull, you can always add a title by the first to keep your discount.” Ray replied.
“I am already having trouble finding stuff I like. I'm not sure I can find anything that I will like that soon.”
I don't really follow super-hero comics much any more. I only get a few of the cheaper $3 and $4 ones to help fill out my minimum, so I can get the discount on my $6 and $7 ones. Miserable Life was one of the best of those. It was, no is, an American-style manga about a young man, Ted, who finds a young girl without any of her memories. He was going to take her to the police or a hospital when she had a memory flash while passing a small grocery store. Literally, her eyes were glowing. They went inside, but the owner didn't recognize her. Still, they stayed around a bit to help him out. Because of their help, he managed to save his store, which was on the verge of going under. He would have been forced to close and sell the place if it hadn’t been for their help. Later, after they had left, some letters appeared, carved into some of the wooden walls. Those letters suggested that the young woman may have had been there once before.
After that, Ted found a place for her in his apartment building and started calling her Mae. Each issue, Mae would have a memory flash about something, and then they would investigate. Each time, now one knew her, but they wound up helping them out and something minor would change in the environment, although only the readers would notice. That changed with issue 13, published this past February, two months late and the third delay of over a month in the past five issues. Ted was at work, and Mae was supposed to stay in the apartment. While looking out the window, she had a memory flash about this man who appeared to be trying to pickpocket a woman on the street. She went out and asked if she could help him. When Ted came home, he found her on the street with the con man, and telling Ted that she had been helping the pickpocket commit crimes all day. Ted took her away, causing the criminal to run afoul of a troublesome mark and get chased onto the street, where he got hit by a car. He was in bad shape, but it looked like he would survive. Meanwhile, back at his hideout, a photo booth sheet of pictures appeared, of him and Mae together with a note saying “To my love and partner in crime.” Finally, a thought bubble popped up saying “She is here. She shouldn't be here.” You couldn't tell where it came from, maybe from one of the bystanders or someone else nearby. and now I might never find out.
I say goodbye to Ray and walk up to the new comics display, which had thinned out of browsers by this time. I take a quick glance through some of the titles. Just because I don't read most of them doesn't mean I don't try to stay informed. Who knows? Maybe someone will ask of my opinions about a title or story line. I don’t want to look like a fool and have to admit that I don’t really know what is going on. I then go to the counter to pick up my folder. Another new employee was there.
“Hi. I'm Meagan. How may I help you?”
“I would like my folder, please. Name's Christopher Burton.”
I hate it that there are some many new people here. I used to know the names of every employee. I guess that a place like this has a lot of turnover. Must be plenty of college students needing work. I get my books and then leave. It doesn't take as long to get back to my car, as it did getting in, as traffic had slowed down a lot. I place my comics on the front seat and go to the convenience store for a few things. They were out of chocolate bells, though. I really needed some tonight. So what if they are just chocolate-covered upside-down cupcakes? I like them. I had to get some healthier alternatives instead, such as fruit. Yeah.
By this time, my car had gotten hot in the sun. At work, I usually manage to park in the shade. I had to turn on the A/C, but I had forgotten about the glitch. Lately, not only does the power cut off if I turn on the radio and it too soon, but the A/C could also cycle off and on if I set the fan speed too high. As soon as I switch it on, it cuts off. Looks like I was going to have to drive home hot. At least it is a faster drive this late in the day. I just finished paying the car off, too. Just my luck that I had to get the one car in a thousand that keeps messing up. Haven’t heard of any other troubles with the model.
The drive home is uneventful. Traffic had slowed on most of the side streets, even with the main arteries still slightly congested. That’s the key the driving around Lexington. Stay off the largest roads as much as you can. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that I still live just a few blocks away from the UK campus. This time of year, almost nothing is happening. That sweet break that lies between spring graduation and the summer session. Just make the correct turns and boom, I’m on my street with hardly any trouble. Can’t get much better than that.
As I pull into the driveway, I notice a car parked on the other side of the street. Definitely not one of the regulars. I might not be too close with many of my neighbors, but I am usually good at recognizing their cars. This cream-colored rust bucket looks even older than mine. Suddenly, a hefty, sweaty man gets out and hobbles up to me as soon as I get out of the car. I don’t even have time to pick up my groceries and books.
“Are you Christopher Arnett Burton?” he gasps as he rushes up to me.
“Yes, I am. And you are?”
“Never mind,” he says as he shoves some papers into my hand. “I have been waiting here an hour to hand you these. You are to appear at Judge Stanford's office at 8:30 tomorrow morning. Don't ask me what for. All I know is that you aren't going to be arrested and you aren't in any trouble. Probably. Good day.”
I hear him mumble under his breath that he doesn't get paid enough to do this, as he trudges back to his car and pulls away. I look down at the papers he gave me, a summons I guess. There wasn't much on them. Basically, it said I had to appear at this Judge Harvey Stanford's office, family court. Wait. Why do I have to go to family court? There wasn't an explanation. Shouldn’t there be more? I grab my bags from the car and lock it up. I slowly walk to the front door, dazed, and wondering just what was going on.
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