Cedric and I Eating Chocolate in Bed While Matt Works

I'm standing at my desk when I notice that Debbie is talking to a couple in their 50s or so. He has olive colored skin (almost leathery) and liver spots on the silver cul de sac on his head.
I walk up behind Debbie (facing the clearance stage, by the Scorpion Helmets) and without excusing myself into the conversation, I just say, "I've been working with them." Very plainly.
I'm lying.
She looks (slightly) annoyed but says in a surprised tone, "Oh, okay, well here you go!" and smiles and walks away.
So I think that the gentleman wants a thin 1/2 shell helmet with a sun visor so I grab the Vega book.
I'm holding it open for the customer, flipping pages, feeling frustrated because I know exactly what I'm looking for. (I've done this for years!!)
I say, "What the heck? It's in here somewhere." and I keep flipping.

Then I remember the helmet I'm looking for is a Gmax and is in the WPS catalog. I grab the huge book and it hits the counter with a thud.

Time Travel

I'm laying in a big, white feather bed behind the parts counter to the far end on the left. The bed is about a foot or so below the level of the counter so I can see some miscellaneous clutter on the vintage home made shelving. There are a few tattered cardboard boxes with nick nacks., extra pens, a paperclip occasionally. There is a lot of dust. (This basically describes, perfectly, what is behind the parts counter in real life).

So, I'm laying in the big feather bed on my stomach. I don't have a shirt on and I can feel the cool fabric on my chest. I try kind of half-heartedly to keep my breasts covered as I talk to Matt who's on the center computer, just plugging away, entering part numbers for orders.

He looks over sporadically and I pretend to struggle to cover  my nakedness. I know he can see just the tops of my nipples and the white down blanket is rubbing them and they are not fully rigid, but definitely firm.

I suddenly turn to my right and under the parts counter, just below the second to last computer on the counter, there is a weathered cardboard box, probably from the late 80s, early 90s (I wouldn't be surprised if some of the boxes were that old in real life) and it's filled with triangular foil wrapped chocolates. The bright orange-gold (as opposed to yellow gold) is shaped like a wedge of cheese. A long stretched angular shape.

I grab one and have trouble upwrapping it. I try to drag my fingers along the foil, hoping to catch a small seam and pull the cover off revealing my treasured treat.

I put it in my mouth, and don't chew it. I roll it around in my mouth and feel it melt between the roof of my mouth and my tongue. It's my favorite kind of chocolate: super creamy milk. Melts almost immediately once it moves past your lips.

Cedric and I are  moving around, adjusting the blankets around us but being courteous as to not expose each other.

Then I wake up.