There Is A Kitten at the End of This Story

Don't pick it up

Kent dodged deftly to the right to avoid knocking into an oversized display of painter’s tape and narrowly missed crashing into a cart full of lightbulbs driven by an elderly man in greasy coveralls. He only needed a box of nails, small ones for hanging pictures, but this place was like a maze, obstacle course, and circus all under one corrugated tin roof. He’d had to pee since the plumbing aisle and was convinced the lumber section would be great for hiding a body. In a general malaise, leaning on his cart for support, he’d turned a corner in an aisle apparently dedicated to adhesive tape and bumped into an older man in a neon green apron.

“Do you know where I can find the picture hanging nails? I swear I’ve been on every aisle.” The man looked off in the distance, put one hand on his hip and held the other out like he was pointing to Kent’s doom.

“Twenty.”

Aisle twenty only had every other kind of nail, in every conceivable shape, size, and sexual orientation. Kent had laughed silently to himself over that joke and then immediately posted it on social media with a plea for help.

“Twelve, man. I keep a log on my phone just in case.”

Thank the elder gods for friends, Kent thought, picking up an entire picture hanging kit in hopes of never having to return to this wasteland of abundance again. As a reward for his epic endurance, he decided his frazzled patience could withstand a trip to the garden department. One could really never have too many plants.

Under the mesh shade canopies and misters Kent walked up and down the rows of garden plants. Petunias and pansies flashed all the hot summer colors, but there was nothing spectacular, nothing to die for, or that he didn’t already have. Rounding the last aisle the cart hit something and got stuck, looking around the corners he didn’t see anything it might be caught on and tried again, but the cart didn’t budge.

“You’re stuck on my hose,” a woman in her neon green apron, standing at the front of Kent’s cart muttered. More to herself than to Kent.

“Oh, I couldn’t see it. Do you mind lifting the front over? There isn’t room for me to get around the side. Aisles are too narrow.”

“Just go around, sir.” She held the watering wand out over the drenched plants and mechanically waved it back and forth.

“I want to look at that plant behind you.”

“You want to buy it? I’ll put one in the cart for you.”

“I want to look- You know what, forget it. Sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

Kent huffed and backed up to turn the cart around. There were still the houseplants inside to look at anyway. He snagged a few succulent leaves from the floor on his way back inside. These he could grow into new plants, for free. Online it was called “proplifiting” and had a strict code of ethics. Never break a plant, only take what would be thrown away, and if you aren’t at a store and have to cut something, ask first. Kent also asked first if he was at a local nursery. The big box stores just swept up the fallen leaves, but some smaller nurseries propagated them for sale, so he asked first. This place was a monstrosity, and it could be damned as far as he was concerned.

Inside, back under the air conditioning, he squeezed his way through the house plant aisles, nearly knocking over three ficus. Rounding a corner he thought he heard someone call his name. Or no, not call his name. He shivered, it was like a mental tug. He paused and looked around, no one was paying any attention to him. As he looked, his gaze was pulled downward and he caught a glimpse of a plant partially hidden on the overstock shelf that sat below the display shelf. He picked it up, it was wilted, but it was a cute little plant with thick, dark green, glossy leaves. They were mostly rounded, but with a small point at the tip. Kent could see it looking impressive once it was big and full. He turned it around, checking for bugs. The tag read “Pepper-Face, Baby Rubber Plant.”

“Well, which are you, my friend? Guess I’ll have to do a little research.” Kent said to it, wiping some dust from its leaves. Gooseflesh rose on his arms as he touched each leathery leaf. He used a plant app for a quick ID and came up with Peperomia obtusifolia, neither a pepper plant nor a ficus.

“Talk about an identity crisis,” he mumbled as he navigated his way out of the garden section and out to the main thoroughfare.

He used the self-checkout. He’d had enough of unfriendly, underpaid, and overworked neon-automatons. Soon, he and his pepper-face/baby rubber plant/peperomia were on the way home. He talked to it as he drove.

“How did you get tucked under the shelf like that? You’re so cute, I’d think you’d be an easy sell. I mean, I guess I’m glad, because now I get to keep you. I can’t wait until you’re big and strong. I’ll fix you up. A little water, some actual light, you’ll be growing in no time.”

Kent laughed at himself, what was he doing? Guess the store had driven him crazier than he thought.

“You know, I don’t normally talk to my plants. I mean, I get why people do I guess, but I’ve never been the type. You though, there’s something about you.” He paused, sneaking a look at the plant riding shotgun before bringing his eyes back to the road.

“You have a presence. Which is funny because you’re like, what, five inches tall? But I feel like there’s something inside you, something sentient. It’s weird, not in a bad way, I mean. Honestly, I really like you.” He paused. What the hell was he saying? To a plant. It was true though, he felt like there was someone in the car with him. Some silent passenger just sitting there, watching. It was weird. Creepy weird. Maybe it was just buyers remorse, the thing did look about to wither and die. It looked worse than it had in the store.

Kent pulled into his garage and took his spoils into the house. He set the plant in the kitchen sink. It was already in a cute, decorative pot, and he didn’t want to stress it out any more than it already was by repotting so soon. But it was so thirsty. He turned on the faucet and let the water fill the plastic nursery pot and run into the decorative pot it sat in. Not too much in the bottom. Just a little extra.

“That should perk you up.” He made some room on the kitchen window sill, it was bright and sunny there, and set the new plant among the others, shivering again as he brushed a leaf. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the plant was watching him. Maybe I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. It’s just making me feel anxious. He turned from the window and opened the fridge, looking for something quick so he could get out of the kitchen, go sit and watch some TV. Clear his head. As he rummaged he felt goosebumps prickle the back of his neck. I’m losing my damn mind. He wouldn’t let himself turn around. Slamming the fridge closed he opened the freezer, grabbed a frozen macaroni and cheese dinner and turned to the microwave. The frozen dinner hit the floor and bounced on one corner, finally landing like a brick on the linoleum.