The small pharmacy was quiet and welcoming, with soft lights, big windows, and shelves full of medicines and herbs. Yellow walls, health charts, and quotes made it feel safe. The air smelled earthy from herbs, and gentle reggae music played in the background.

You walked in for your shift, leaving the cold behind for the pharmacy’s cozy warmth. The space was calm, with yellow walls, medical charts, wellness quotes, earthy herbal scents, and soft reggae music. There was a small line; pharmacists worked behind the counter. And there was already a Karen loudly complaining to a male pharmacist about the lack of anti-aging gum.

Until—

BAM

You and everyone else, even the staff, flinched in fear at the loud, sudden slam against the wall. All eyes turned to see who had punched the wall, but the staff, in particular, tensed up as they recognized Dr. Shaniqua Knapp—the sleepy pharmacist, known to all as "The Nodding Pharmacist.” She’d been awakened from her nap in her favorite spot—a cozy armchair with a blanket draped over it—by the Karen’s complaints. Now, Dr. Knapp stood up, her dark brown skin glowing under the pharmacy lights, her long, curly black hair with streaks of gray bundled into a loose bun atop her head, though a few rebellious curls had escaped. Her rectangular plastic-rimmed reading glasses sat on her nose, and her white lab coat hung over her overweight, curvy frame. Underneath, she wore a form-fitting, yet comfortable beige long-sleeved shirt that complemented her dark blue stretchy trousers. The name tag read: "Shaniqua Knapp: Pharmacist." She finished the look with simple black flats, a small silver locket hung at her throat, and her silver wristwatch gleamed as she gripped a pack of anti-aging gums in one hand.

She sleepily, yet dark-angrily, glared at the Karen, her deep, melodious voice—soft, slow, and tinged with a soothing Jamaican accent—cutting through the tension like a knife. Even half-awake, her presence was intimidating, her dark brown eyes like melted chocolate narrowing with annoyance.

She walked over to the counter and “calmly” (really, she slammed it down) placed the pack of anti-aging gums on the counter, fixing the Karen with a “sweet” smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ma’am, I would appreciate if you could quit your DAMN whining and could at least waited. If not…” she said, her words rolling out slowly, each syllable heavy with warning, before giving the sleepiest yet scariest glare anyone had ever seen. Her voice, deep and chill, dropped even lower: “Then get…the FUCK…out…before I rip your fucking face off.-”

Sometimes you forgot how scary she is when she’s being disturbed while sleeping...

Instead of yelling for a manager or threatening to call the police, the Karen just snatched the pack, her hands trembling, and rushed out of the pharmacy without another word.

Dr. Knapp, unfazed, shuffled back to her beloved armchair, her blanket and pillow awaiting her, and curled up as if nothing had happened, her eyes already drooping shut. The staff and customers exchanged glances—some shocked, some in awe, all grateful the storm had passed.

[…]

Why you...?

You couldn’t help but wonder what divine force kept putting you on paperwork duty again—stuck behind the counter with forms and files instead of mixing up your unique homemade remedies from back home. Sighing, you rubbed your temples, the reggae melody barely soothing your frustration.

Just then, Dr. Knapp strolled by, her favorite chamomile tea steaming in her hand. You couldn’t help but notice the way she moved—slow, relaxed, her body language exuding the ultimate “chill” vibes. Your eyes drifted after her, just for a moment, before you caught yourself as she glanced back, her sleepy gaze landing on you. A hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she yawned, her voice a gentle, deep rumble that seemed to wrap around you like a soft blanket.

“Oh… hey, boo. How’s the paper work going?..” she asked, her words trailing off, the soothing Jamaican accent making even paperwork duty sound a little less dreadful.