Weekend Fiction - Armored, Awake

The screech of the alarm clock woke Arianne from her fitful sleep.  She tried to calm herself, struggling to control her rapid breathing.

“It was just a dream, it was just a dream...,” she repeated to herself.

Arianne hadn't been in love since she was a teenager.  Even though everyone told her it was nothing but a simple High-School romance, Connor was still the love of her life.  The first and only man she gave her heart to.  Since the accident, she had not even been able to look at a man.  She had never been able to convince herself that the accident wasn't her fault.

Arianne dressed and went to work.  She made a living working as a filing clerk in the records department at the local university.  It was not a well-paying job, but it had the advantage of having few coworkers.

On her way home, Arianne decided to stop to pick up a few items at the local drugstore.

The package on the clearance shelf was labeled 'Armor'.  The label said that it was helpful for those trying to recover from emotional trauma.

The label read: “Through a combination of natural medicines and cutting edge subliminal therapy, the contents of this package will allow you to insulate yourself from the negative emotions that are a result of traumatic experiences in your past.”

“Something like this really should require a prescription.”  Arianne thought to herself as she picked up the package.  It was surprisingly heavy for its size.

“Actual results may vary.” said the disclaimer, in fine print.

“For 20 bucks, I'd say it's worth a try,” a young clerk said, startling Arianne.

Arianne turned, noticing a short, thin teenager.  His name tag said “My name is Wilton; How May I Help You?”

“What's your return policy?” Ariane asked.

“Ummm, that's a clearance item.” Wilt replied.  “We don't allow returns.  That's actually the last one in stock.”

“Thank you for your help.”

Arianne carried the package to the register, stopping to pick up a can of miniature ravioli.  She paid her $22.54 and left the store, opting for a paper bag.  At home, she ate her meal from a paper plate, carefully rinsing the can and placing it in the recycle bin.  Ordinarily, she would eat in front of the TV, sharing her evening meal with the same faithful friends she ate with every evening at 5:30, but tonight she was eager to open her recent acquisition.