Today felt special, because tomorrow Jordan would be unemployed.
Not that she’d been working the days prior.
Each day she’d passed slouched over her office chair, the only thing remaining inside her shop.
The shop still belonged to her, on paper, for several more hours, and it seemed like she had spent the entire day holding on to what she still had, even though there was nothing there.
The shop never came to resemble a legitimate business. It never grew out of the phase where it looked like a business that had just moved in and had yet to unpack the first truckload of merchandise. When it came time to shut down, the move out process happened almost seamlessly. In fact, there was no place in which to move to. She wasn’t going to continue running a smoke shop else where, which is what everyone seemed to assume when they found out that she was closing. This was an actual end to this business. No plan b in line.
If she had been continuing then all this would’ve been more arduous. She would’ve had to pack everything gently and transport it to the next location. Same thing with if she had planned on keeping the glass bongs and bowls and other knick knacks. But one day some weeks ago Jordan had decided she would liquidate everything. She didn’t want to hang on to all this shit anyway.
Business had been slow as sludge the two years she had ran the shop. And then miraculously everyone from all corners of West City popped in, and actually bought stuff, once the liquidation was in progress. Now that she was closing down, and everything was up for grabs at discount, the customer base expanded if but for even just several weeks. Then soon, the shop was bare empty.
When I had shown up that day, I had sat for a moment in the parking lot watching her through the window. I couldn’t tell how she felt, at least no in a reductive way where I could point my finger to a single adjective. She was going through something, but it was nothing I could simply grasp. I must’ve watched her like a voyeur for less than a minute. But it felt a lot longer.
It was when I walked in through the door that she stepped up from her office chair, the last thing left in the shop, and said without hesitation.
“Here let’s get out out of here.”
I hadn’t said anything. Just shook my head in agreement. And we grabbed the heavy ass office chair together and rolled it out into the parking lot and loaded it into the trunk of my car. We walked back together to the door, where I watched her lock the door for the last time. And then we drove north towards a town in the middle of nowhere to visit a video store that Jordan had found.