Free Balance of Fragile Things by Olivia Chadha

come back later or try a different pharmacy. He grabbed the slip of paper, crumpled it up, and threw it at Maija’s face without saying a word. Relieved by his exit, she went to work on Eleanora’s medicine. Like a confident cuckoo that clucks an hour late, Tom reappeared with a sub sandwich in his hand—it was only ten in the morning.
    Maija took a deep breath. This was the first hour of her day; she would have to stand here in the medicinal trenches behind the counter wearing her white god coat for at least nine more hours. She dug her heels into the rubber mat that helped her stand for hours on end and counted pills with a metal spatula. Eleanora was conducting a one-person fashion show in the slim, two-by-four-inch mirror on the side of the reading glasses display. She fluffed her wispy hair with her thin fingers, flashed a diamond the size of a walnut that couldn’t have been real, and puckered her thin, almost nonexistent lips.
    Mr. Herbert Finch, her husband, was a small and quiet man. Maija had only seen him a few times, years ago when she’d visit Eleanora for tea. The Finch flock had never accepted any of her dinner invitations, so she hadn’t had the chance to speak with him a great deal, or graze his hand for a tidbit of his future. He was shorter than Eleanora and much older. The gossipers in town whispered about how Eleanora had only married him for his potential fortune. Maija marveled at how ironic it would be if Eleanora died before her older husband. She felt a little sorry for Herbert.
    She finished her prescription and handed it to Tom for inspection. Tom, lifting his nose from his sandwich, gave the bottle a hurried nod.
    â€œEleanora? It’s ready.” Maija stood at the receiving end at the window under a sign that read Pick up . Maija saw Tom pull a stack of official-looking papers on top of his sub. Even Shandy took a moment to look up from her magazine to acknowledge Eleanora.
    â€œCan I pay for these here?” Eleanora handed Maija five pairs of reading glasses. “I just can’t keep track of my glasses; if I stash a pair in every drawer, maybe I’d be able to read my day planner.”
    â€œSure, no problem.”
    Maija attempted to touch Eleanora’s hand again as she took the glasses from her, but her fingers fumbled and missed their chance. She just wanted to be sure of what she’d seen; if she spent any sleepless nights drowning in guilt, she wanted to know whether she deserved it or not. But her insight was stubborn and defiant and refused to give her any further image or message.
    So Maija rang up the glasses and asked Eleanora if she was familiar with the medicine. She said she was, though she never looked up from the depths of her purse. Maija paused and told her it was very important for her to follow the instructions on the bottle. Eleanora waved her on, pulled out her overstuffed wallet, and dealt her a credit card out of a stack. Maija knelt down to swipe the Visa through the card machine under the counter. As she did so, she heard tires swerving on the rain-soaked road outside. The machine beeped at Maija, and she saw, much to her dismay, that the card was declined. She desperately swiped the card through the machine again, and again. It was social suicide, but she had to find the courage to efficiently ask Eleanora for another card. Maija stood with a board-straight back and gave a reassuring smile.
    As she was about to open her mouth and let the words march professionally from her tongue, an explosion sent her falling to the floor. The drive-through window had shattered and sprayed shards of thin glass across the pharmacy and everyone within a twenty-foot radius. The brick that had broken the window landed right on the counter and smashed the bag that held Eleanora’s medicine, denting the countertop.
    Shandy held her hand to her right eye and screamed, while Tom ran into the back room again. Maija looked up, through the