The end

One sunny day, Nanna was complimented by a stranger about how she seemed to glow. She smiled, excepted the compliment and moved on. It gave a little shot to her confidence. Made her smile.

The next day she was complimented again. ‘Two days in a row she thought.’ Smiling to herself.

It just seemed to grow exponentially. Nanna knew she wasn’t gorgeous. She was the lady next door. The average person. Average height. Average shoe size. Average i.q. Average.

One of her companies clients brought her flowers. That had never happened. A random man on the street asked her to dinner. A lady in the park asked her to lunch. At first it was nice. She had never received a lot of attention. If she was outside; walking the dog, someone always stopped to talk to her.

Nanna was walking down the grocery aisle; she forgot something, turned to see 10 people (5 on either side of the aisle) suddenly they started looking at whatever product was on the shelf beside of them. One started whistling. Was she being paranoid? These people were not following her. Why would they? This felt a little creepy. She finished her shopping quickly, almost running to her car.

Was this what a panic attack felt like? She sat in the car breathing. In. Out. Deeper and deeper until her lungs hurt. She jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on her window. It was a uniformed police officer. She waved him away, racing out of the parking lot.

Home. Sweet home.

When she took her dog out, a car stopped. Then another. Then another. Suddenly there was a traffic jam on her tiny street. She smiled and waved at the first car that stopped but he just kept trying to talk to her. A car passed him, stopped, this person was trying to talk to her. The overlapping voices were confusing. Traffic was stopped in both directions now. The air was filled with voices. Talking, shouting, angry voices. Someone started honking their horn. Her dog was barking. Louder and louder the overlapping voices became. A gun shot rang out. Her heart stopped for a minute. All the people that were standing outside their vehicles ducked inside. She scooped up Chico and ran into the house. Locking the door behind her. She slid down the door crying. Holding on to Chico for dear life.

What was this? What was happening to her quiet life? Chico licked at the salty tears rolling down her cheek. Which, made her cry that much harder. This was nuts.

Nanna tried wearing sunglasses and a hat whenever she went out. This really didn’t seem to work. When she smiled at the man using the gas pump next to hers; a woman in the truck started cussing him and flogging him with her purse. Nanna took her receipt before hurrying into her car. ‘What a spectacle?’ She thought.

She was blown away as ‘James’ (that’s what his shirt said). The man behind the couner, started yelling at her. He was insistent that she not pay for the set of tires that they just put on her car. It was flattering. But this was a $400.00 gift from a complete stranger. How could she accept such a gift? She tried to meet him half way but he wouldn’t hear it. She finally asked for a receipt, thanked him and left.

Nanna stood looking at herself in the mirror. She was the same person. Chico jumped up on the commode lid watching her. “Cheekie, the world has gone crazy.”

She took her cosmetic spatula in one hand and the tube of lip balm in the other. There was still so much balm in there. What was it about this tube? She glanced at Chico then back at the tube. All this foolishness started with her trying to get the maximum utility out of this tube of lip balm. It couldn’t be this simple. Feeling uneasy, she quickly chucked the tube in the trash.

Part one

Growing up poor had taught Nanna many lessons. Not being a wasteful person was the most valuable one. Nanna could make any item scream for mercy before it was tossed in the trash. What seemed like chump change to most people was down right golden to her.

Nanna had an addiction. Like everyone else, she was obsessed with something. Lucky for her it wasn’t someone. She was addicted to lip balm.

Her lips stayed dried out. Chapped, cracked, dry, painful. She could feel them curling up. What she envisioned was a mouth that was constantly puckered. And not kissable. Sandpaper lips. Almost always to the point of bleeding. Though they never bled.

Why? Who knew? Maybe she was breathing too hard? Maybe she was breathing too deeply? The air in her house too dry? Not enough oil in her skin? A ghost was always following her, stealing the moisture from her lips to regenerate itself? A Martian was siphoning her lip cells in a failed attempt to make a carbon based refractor to communicate with the mother ship?

Cause of dry lips – unknown.

Nanna had lip balm in her coat pocket. Pants pocket. Car cubby. Purse. A tube was in every room of her house. On every table, stand, dresser, counter top. Her desk at work. A drawer in her bathroom was full of ‘at the ready’ tubes. Her dry lips would be quenched. At least for a little while. Sweet relief.

She stood at the kitchen sink; with the utensil drawer out, holding an ‘empty’ tube. Down to the nub. Nanna knew there was more balm down in there. How much? She wanted to find out. How to get it out? Nothing worked. A spoon was too big. Either end. The fork tines were too close together. A butter knife was too wide. With her hip, she closed the drawer with a sigh of disgust. This tube was not going to get thrown out. There had to be a way.

Sitting at her vanity, what about this cosmetic spatula? She used it to get every last drop of foundation out of a bottle. Would it work? Was it too wide? With her mind full of curiosity, she took the spatula to the medicine cabinet to find out. To her delight, it worked! Eureka!

The tube just kept going. Day after day. More and more. Balm was just there. She was thrilled with her luck.