working late

Date: 9/12/2016

Working, but had to take a field trip to a department store. Mom keeps talking to ladies in the returns section. Exchanging gossip and purchases. I wander around and bump into a sign. It knocks over a bunch of glamorous gowns. The very made up, conventionally attractive salesgirl acts very polite and understanding, but then says that I have to take the gowns. She makes it seem like the store is just giving them to me. I am confused, trying to figure out what is going on. Then she is only packing up one, it is an ugly pink sweater. Then she tried to charge me for it. I say No. I am not paying for that. The gowns weren't damaged and that sweater wasn't even one of the things knocked down. Another salesgirl agrees. I walk away to find Mom. I find her. She is still talking, and it is getting late. Strangely, I can read the clocks. It is 3:15. She keeps taking her time. Then I lose my shoes. Looking through piles none are mine. None even fit me. Mom leaves while I am looking. How am I going to get home and out of the city? Run into Joy. A homeless person sleeping in the vestibule tries to get into the building. We don't let her. I feel badly, but it isn't our store to decide, and I have my own problems. I tell Joy my problems and ask if I can take the train home with her. I have no shoes, and no money and don't know which train to take. Another lady tells her a sad story. She starts to cry. I exclaim that I know the tears aren't for me, my story wasn't that sad. A stupid thing to say. And she gives me a look as we climb the stairs to the train.