Sakura dreaming

Mandate of Heaven

I waited until the silver BMW was completely out of sight before I ventured out into the stroller-and-pedistrian-packed mall. Soccer moms shopping at Banana Republic could make you invisible to the store employees, but only if you weren't wearing their favorite black tank and a pair of bootcut jeans in heritage blue wash.

And here I was, dodging strollers and couples walking slowly across the sidewalk on their ten thousand errands in order to get from the doorway of BCBG Maxamara building to the door of Banana Republic a few stores down on the street. It was hard, only using my peripheral vision, so my eyes started straight ahead. Lacking direct eye contact, my credit card could not insist that I yield to the right of way and go into every store before there, right ?

I put my hand on the door and hestitated. I didn't know why I had not been taken or sent to do inventory already for the store (if I owned half the clothes in there, shouldn't I be entitled to receive a better discount on everything?); but if I wanted that dress, then it I would have to enter and possibly validate the rumor I was turning to a Jimmy Choo fan.

Then again, my friends didn't need any evidence to convict-all they needed to see was the shopping bag. I sighed. I opened the door, listening for the tale-tell tinkle of an electronic bell to announce my entrance, and walked toward the countertop display of skirts between the favorite tanks and Tshirts.



And then a more sobering question: What will happen to my credit card now?

posted by Sakura @ 12:56 AM