Monday mornings are the absolute worst because the repetitive ringing of my alarm is a painful reminder that I have to awaken early for work. When I was younger, I associated work with adulthood. Which is why I was excited to someday get my very first job. I yearned to become an adult and do adult things like paying taxes, making money, living alone. But now, as an adult, none of these things are enjoyable to me. I want nothing more than to go home and live with my father again. 

I made sure to call my father that morning before leaving for work like usual. My father had begun to age and his voice was beginning to sound different. This made me feel funny. I didn't want to lose my father because, without him, I have no family.

I worked in a mall in the customer service section. If anyone had lost their belongings, they were to report to me. Belongings meant anything - from cheap items to expensive items, sometimes even children.

However, today wasn't like any other today. This day in particular just happened to be the day before Christmas, and that meant there'd be a whole lot of people coming in. This also meant that a whole lot of people would be misplacing their items, specifically their children. I counted about twenty people who came in questioning the whereabouts of their children before the chaos finally came to a rest.

Whilst rearranging the folders according to colour, the sound of someone clearing their throat brought me back to reality. I let out a sigh.

Please don't tell me you've lost your child.

I turned around and met the eyes - or the chest - of a tall man. I didn't bother to look up so I could actually make eye contact with him but I could tell that he was attractive. He was just as handsome as Tyrone, if not, slightly more handsome. With a sharp jawline, perfectly sculpted cheekbones and faded acne scars across his cheeks, he gave me an awkward grin.

A frown crawled onto my face and escaped just as fast as it came. Something was strange about this man. I found myself looking everywhere but into his eyes. This happened often. I struggled with eye contact. But this was the first time I was so painfully aware of it.

"How can I help you?" I questioned with the over-the-top customer service voice.

"Uh.. right," he began in a deep voice. "This is a little embarrassing but my grandmother misplaced her dentures."

I looked to his right and that's when I spotted an old woman, half his size, standing next to him with a meek expression on her face. 

Yellow.

"Where did you last place it?" I asked. "If you can recall."

"On the table at the food court," the man stepped in. "Table number four, family aisle. It's in a pink Kirby container."

If I were a dog, my ears would have perked up at the mention of Kirby. 

I couldn't help the grin that found its way onto my face, "It's your lucky day."

I rummaged through the stacks of folders and plastic bags to find the Kirby container a customer had handed in a few minutes prior, reporting it as 'missing'. I would never admit it, but I'd actually considered taking the container back home because it had Kirby on it. I was unaware that it was actually a case for someone's dentures.

"Aha!" I exclaimed before pulling it out from one of the cubbies and handing it over to the woman with a polite grin. "This must be yours."

"Thank you so much," the man spoke with a sigh of relief. I watched as his shoulders relaxed. "We looked all over and thought someone had stolen it."

"It would be strange for someone to steal dentures," I joked to which the man let out a hearty chuckle. 

"You're right. Thank you..." he trailed off, looking down at my chest and peering at my name tag. "Mr. Juno Bardett."

"Juno," I corrected. "You're welcome.." 

"Warren," he completed.

With that, he thanked me one last time before offering me another grin and leaving with his grandmother. I watched them leave before their figures turned into nothing but another family shopping for Christmas gifts in a sea of colourful people.

That's when I figured it out.

Why hadn't I been able to assign him a colour?