Last night we were at H&M to make a small return. We witnessed the tail end of a woman that had just thrown her pink lemonade 3:16 cup at the person behind the cashier.
When she said: I’m not from Cali! I’ll fuck your shit up!
I responded with curiosity. I stepped to the side to get a better view. I wanted to say, of course you’re not. You said Cali. And I remained calm and curious. Where was she from? Who raised her? Was there anyone around to raise her? I wanted more insight into her life. But she proceeded to knock off a counter of jean and walk out of the store with someone attempting to hold her back.
When security showed up, Matt was the only to say he looked like 16. I looked up. He was right. Jailbait. Baby face. With only a red clipboard. The H&M spoke to him first because he was too shy. They said: did you want to see our manager? Yes. Great. He’s upstairs. Follow me.
I didn’t feel fear until I was rung up. I felt the new cashier’s shaky body. She was professional. She was polite. And she was still processing what had happened. Saying it usually only happens on weekends.
Sending us off: goodnight and be safe out there with a smile. We laughed and made sure to walk out in the opposite direction.