Department store trauma disorder

Do you remember when you were little, and your mom would take you shopping with her, and you’d wind up in the depths of one of those department stores in the mall, where everything looks the same, and after you turn a corner or two you can’t remember which way it is back out into the mall and which way it is to the car, and that generic retail smell envelops you, and you’re exhausted from your mom looking at and trying on this and that, and there’s never any place to sit, and you get in trouble or stuck with discarded straight pins or both for sitting on the floor, and eventually you’d sell your goddam soul for even a small Orange Julius, partially because to get it, you’d have to leave this godforsaken place?

Shit, you know, as an adult, I don’t even like Kohl’s.

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