Author: Persephone Yavanna the Entwife
Rating: G for gen (in other words, completely work-safe!)
Disclaimer: Tim Kring and assorted others have rights to create derivative works within the Heroesverse, but I am not one of those licensees, unfortunately. Rather not be sued for playing with the characters, though . . . not making a profit here, just exploring the characters and situations created by the esteemed Mr. Kring.
Summary: Angela returns a purchase
Author Notes: This is my first excursion into the Heroesverse.
The wind whistled coldly past her legs as Angela entered the Macy’s entrance at 34th and Seventh. She clutched the package to her breast tighter as she fought to open the door.
“Let me help you with that, ma’am,” said a tall gentleman as he opened the door for her.
“Thank you,” Angela said.
“’Tis the season,” he replied with a warm smile, then winked at her. “Don’t want to get any coal in my stocking.”
She smiled back, a tight little smile demanded by politeness. She turned to her left and walked past the displays of shirts, ties and wallets until she reached her goal.
There was a line at the counter. Not unexpected at this time of year, but she hated to wait. She wanted to have this finished, done – the sooner the better. She fingered the bandage on her forehead as she bent her head and hugged her package, pushing away memories of burning lips searing her soul in a slow gentle kiss.
Her head snapped up as she heard the clerk say, “How may I help you?”
“I’d like to return these,” she said in a crisp voice.
“I’ll need your receipt, madam, if you please, and the card the purchase was charged to,” the clerk said. “And the reason for the return.”
“My son died. He won’t be needing these,” Angela replied. She fumbled with the package, pulling out the required receipt, then opened her purse.
The clerk mumbled the usual, seldom-sincere phrase, “I’m so sorry to hear of your loss.” Taking the proffered slip of paper and rectangle of plastic, the clerk glanced at them, then looked up sharply. “Senator Petrelli will be missed.”
“Yes,” Angela said simply. “He will be.”
Head bent, the clerk swiftly credited the purchase back to her card. Angela placed the package on the counter gently, then turned and walked away, back straight, head high.
Heading towards the bank of elevators, she passed a table of men’s hosiery. She ran her fingers lightly over the small, neat bundles. Argyle, navy, brown, black. She turned her head casually. Busy clerks were at every counter, ringing up purchases for long lines of holiday shoppers. She fingered a cashmere pair in black, luxuriating in its softness.
She turned away and walked towards the elevators, hand in pocket, caressing her latest acquisition.