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Museum

The museum is quiet; it always is. It doesn’t get many visitors. I guess not many people are interested in local history and quilt patterns.

   

I sit in the shop, glancing aimlessly around the room, waiting for a customer. Across the street is a small restaurant called Gino’s Pizza. I always see it from the shop window, but I’ve never been inside. I guess the pizza is not too appetizing since lunch hour isn’t too busy.

   

Down the street is a small ice cream shop with assorted flavors of deliciously cool ice cream, such as my personal favorite: the Oreo Speedwagon, which is also to most creative ice cream name I’ve ever heard. It’s smooth coffee ice cream mixed with crushed oreos.

   

To the right of the museum is a cliche retro cheeseburger restaurant that plays non-stop Elvis Presley songs. Across the street from that is a local market that sells the most delicious blood red strawberries.

   

Back in the museum, I watch people walk by the window. A couple stroll slowly by, laughing and holding hands. A mom hurries past while carrying one child in her arms and holding her other child’s hand. A jogger excitedly runs by them while listening to music.
   

Inside, I sit in my corner behind the cash register, enjoying the peace and quiet on a bright summer day. I feel selfish sometimes since I do so little for my volunteer hours, using them as an excuse for enjoying a short respite from everyday life.




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