ADA
“Hi.”
A customer’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as he walked into the store.
“Hello, welcome to Royal Wellness,” I greeted him with the most convincing fake smile I could manage. It was part of the work ethic. Whether I was sad or not, I had to smile. In the two weeks I had worked there, I had mastered the art of putting on a cheerful expression, even when I felt anything but happy.
“Thanks,” the customer replied with a smile whose sincerity I couldn’t quite determine. However, it seemed somewhat genuine. He was a young man, probably in his late twenties or early thirties, with fair skin, long blonde hair that fell to his neck, and blue eyes. He looked neat and well-groomed, with an air of wealth about him. He was handsome, too.
“Could I see your best collection?” He asked
