His bangs made little grassblades of powder blue in front of his eyes, and he idly brushed them aside. He shifted to vaguely eye the building in front of him.
"Books on Main," he read. He glanced down at the post-it note again, then laughed and sing-songed under his breath, "I don't know what I'm fucking do-ing."
Reece pushed open the doors and looked around. He could be cool, he could be smart. He could also be lost.
"Hmm, not-so-mental note to self," he mumbled, "next time, ask employer where they want you."
He gave wide berth to a gaggle of children and a frazzled-looking lady with pale auburn hair, and tucked his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargos, speeding up a little in case some of the little kids detected him and decided to spread the a.m. misery. He passed shelves full of--"Dude!"
Reece paused and picked out a book. It was covered in sticky plastic wrapping, and there were the words "The Pop-Up Kama Sutra: Six Paper-Engineered Variations" on the front in large letters. Reece giggled like a fourth-grader.
"Pop up," he said to himself, then decided maybe he oughtn't keep talking to himself so much when a girl wearing a backwards baseball cap gave him a strange look.
He cleared his throat, slid the book back in its place and glanced around. He brightened when he saw the help desk and beelined toward it. Maybe they would know where he was supposed to start work.