His name was Charles. It used to be Charlie but now, just Charles. His rather pudgy frame was seen waddling up the sidewalk of Second Avenue as it has been known to do every morning on his way to work. The sun was just beginning its lazy ascent into the sky, the houses and businesses on Charles’ way were just waking with it. The heavily scuffed loafers made slight scraping noises as they shifted their way towards their destination in a sort of sleepy shuffle. Signs passed overhead until an old wooden one came into view, creaking on its rusted hinges: Teach’s Fine Footwear. Charles fished in his pocket looking for the correct key. Selecting it, he opened the door and entered the shop, a small bell announcing his arrival.

“….you are late, Charles”, came a snide, drawling voice from a corner. A sort of voice that held itself in too high of a regard for the very air it breathed. The visage of Edward Teach, store proprietor, rose from behind a desk and swept towards the unfortunate employee. Towering over Charles, the great, black beard an inch from his face, Mr. Teach continued, “What is the meaning of this tardiness?”

“I..I. am sorry sir,” stuttered Charles, “but the store does not open for another half hou”

“Save it! This laziness will be deducted from today’s rates. Now, continue with your job.” Mr. Teaches words cut through the air as if to hook one’s thoughts and drag them, mercilessly, into his folds.

“Of course, sir, m my…my apologizes sir.” With that, Charles shuffled off to grab a broom and began sweeping out the store. It was not exactly a glamorous job and certainly not a thankful job yet it kept him out of his mother’s house. Her voice echoed around in his head, as it constantly did even when she was not around. “Why do you insist on shuffling around like a lazy, good-for-nothing lump? Take some pride in yourself and do something with your life!...When will you settle down and marry a nice girl? I am getting far too old and with no grandchildren, you just insist on causing me heartache don’t you? You know I worry so about you…” Every day it was the same, one disappointment after another with no end in sight. No matter what Charles did he could never rise above her standards it seemed. He just kind of accepted his lot in life now which explained the sleepy shuffle of his gait. Mr. Teach, however horrible he treated Charles, at least paid him and got him out of his mother’s cramped apartment. Charles was grateful for that.

Midmorning found Charles behind the counter, busily counting the till for what seemed like the twentieth time this today (If one cent is missing from that till at the end of the day, it will be coming out of your pay!). Suddenly, the morning quiet was shattered by the sounds of running and laughter. Outside the front windows, a group of small boys came running into view. Each face was lit with a fierce smile and their laughter cascaded before them. They could not have been very old yet they were a common sight in this neighborhood, always running around, laughing and causing mischief. Mr. Teach sneered at them as they passed, “damn hooligans…” slid out the corner of his mouth. He went back to his bookings. Charles watched them go with a sense of longing and something close to…amusement. He continued with his counting; was he at 47 or 48?..

The sun continued to rise high into the sky. The small neighborhood kept to its quiet and cloistered habits. Leaves found their way into the store, following the heels of the couple customers that came to browse. Each time, Mr. Teach took the foliage’s invasion as a personal insult (Charles!! Get this filth out of my store! If I wished to work in a pig’s pen I would set up shop in your mother’s apartment!). Other than that there was no other excitement until just before closing time. The bell clapped out in its exuberance, it did not often get to use its voice. Charles looked up towards the door, just in time to see six small heads dashing through the aisles of shoes, laughter following everywhere.

“HOOLIGANS!”, came the bellow from the back corner. “OUT! OUT! GET THESE DAMN MISFITS OUT OF MY STORE!” The boys took no notice of Mr. Teach’s anger, instead they continued to dash through the aisles, grabbing shoe boxes and switching them with other boxes or throwing handfuls of bright leaves into the air like confetti. Charles waddled after them with a broom, trying to shoo them out the door but with little luck (or was it effort?). Finally, the boys grew tired of dodging between aisles and ducking out of the reach of Mr. Teach’s grasp. Their laughter slowly dissipated as they dashed out the front door and tore down the street. Mr. Teach ran out after them shouting obscenities and spitting in his fury. When he finally reentered his mood had not improved. “I will get those little bastards locked up if it is the last thing I do! How dare they come into my place of business like that! You, Charles, could not even succeed in keeping small hooligans out of my store! Now you will clean and reorganize the entire store without pay, even it takes you all night! Get to work!!!!”

“Ye..yea…yes sir, right away sir…” Charles trembled before his employer, not daring to say another word. He grabbed a broom and sighed as he saw the mess before him.

Hours later, Charles was seen to still be sweeping in the store. Mr. Teach had long since gone home but not before threatening to fire Charles if one speck of dirt was left in his shop by morning. The sun had even given up on Charles, sinking below the horizon without the courtesy of a good night. All was quiet and still, except the slow scratch of the broom on the clean tiles. Then, the sound of laughter caused Charles to glance up from his task as the same group of boys ran past the window again. This time one of them stopped to look into the store. His bright eyes and flashing smile swept through the aisles until he spotted Charles. His smile grew even wider (if that was possible) and he waved enthusiastically before sprinting off again. Charles glanced nervously around to confirm Mr. Teach was not lurking behind him before giving a little wave back. He returned to his sweeping but this time with a small smile on his lips, the memory of laughter ringing in his head.