rshort1202

I am with Melissa in some clothes store. I carry three pairs of Levis as we casually go into a fitting room stall and close the door. It’s just big enough for the two of us. Without me trying to do so, the ink tag on one of the pairs separates and comes off. I try them on and they fit very well (though they’re a little long). They’re sort of a faded Tahoe blue in color. Since they fit and the security tag fell off, I’m going to wear them out under my other pants. I tuck the cuffs into my socks for extra invisibility, and with my shirt back on they are entirely concealed. I briefly consider where to leave the ink tag, though it doesn’t matter a whole lot. I think about bringing the other two pairs back out, but then know it would be suspicious without the other pair I came in with, so I leave them in here. We casually walk out (into the mall?) and towards what would be the food court. We get in line for something (Brooke may be with us) There’s a guy about our age or younger in front of us. One of his friends appears and starts snaking his way in front of us. He has something with him that says (or he is labeled?) ‘Ladders’. The first guy is ‘Chutes’, so I guess it makes sense for them to be together and don’t fuss about him cutting. Melissa is holding a drink, a thin and tall glass clutched at chest level. This second guy starts grabbing at it, which is when I start to have a problem. He tries to make casual conversation. I clasp my hand on his shoulder, and, in a sort of fake amiability, pull him aside with more of a shove. I ask/tell him something. The first guy has his phone out and, sensing this new tension, bluntly says something to Melissa about her unfollowing/blocking him. Without missing a beat, she coolly responds with something to the effect of ‘not a chance’ or ‘not in a million years.’ i get the sense that maybe we’ve met them before and she was receptive on social media to be polite and/or because they didn’t seem too bad. We now pay for the mini golf? at the counter and go wait at some tables outside. Oddly enough, we are still going to be mini golfing with them.




I am at work when I discover that there is more to recover than there should be. Clothes are misplaced and strewn in random places. I notice a section in particular that no one attempted to fix while I was gone. This really irritates me, but I start working on it anyway. On top of a shelf there are pins and nails and the paper filling from inside the shoes. I see Rocio over here, so I go talk to her. She speaks a lot in Spanish, repeating some things. I understand some of it, trying to reply in Spanish too. I think she asks if I am going to teach. I tell her maybe, really considering it. The large, yellow cup from Dad’s is here and full of water. I take a large swig.




I am at a very small concert festival with Melissa. I see a lineup poster by a stage - Venom is playing at the same time as another band (they’re both headlining though?). Melissa asks me to pick which one we should watch. I pick Venom because they sound familiar. They come on and start, and Melissa rushes to the stage. I imagine moshing.

I am in some room, open and airy, yet almost a room that feels like it should be smaller (I can’t tell if it’s more of a gym or a bedroom, or some combination of both). There are only two others here: Allison and Harper. I am sitting on the floor, my legs straight out in front of me. There’s a small gap between them, in which Harper sits. She’s nestled between my calves, facing me, holding onto my hands. I tilt her to the side, as if I’m going to let her fall, before moving her back to an upright position. I watch as each tilting brings a smile to her face. Meanwhile, Allison is out on the floor and throwing me the needle-sided portions of the security ink tags. She throws them at me, and I attempt to punch them back at her. Some of the needles are making contact and tearing up my knuckles. My preoccupation with the baby/toddler coupled with the inefficiency of punching these things results in me feeling like I am not making for a very fun time for Allison. I think she may sense this too.

I am at work, in the clearance section. Two or three guys are browsing together over here; one of them approaches me, holding a pure white men's jumpsuit, saying he’s looking for a different size. I quickly scan all of the hanging white items as well as the single rack that’s on the wall by the jeans. I come back over to tell him that I didn’t find any, when we see a folded, white dress shirt on the cream white and fairly empty shelf in front of us at shoulder height. I casually offer it as a possible substitute. He unfolds it to find out that it’s actually a tuxedo vest. He says something like ‘oh nice, a vest,’ like it would actually work for him. As he is unfamiliar and possessing of a sort of expressionless face, I can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s fucking with me. I now unfold another, and this one is actually a dress shirt. It’s close to a jumpsuit in only the material - it’s heavier, like a broadcloth, also a cream white. This guy is actually happy with it and is going to get it. After they have left, I end up putting some items in the clearance next to the kids shoes. The shoes are on a torso-high display and looking pretty disheveled. There are way more things in this section than in real life. I start walking somewhere else, and the whole place is different and much larger than in real life. It seems more open; there’s a sort of skywalk to another part of the mall (or casino? - it feels a little like a casino). Over by it, I briefly help a Hispanic man look for something before I go to do something else. I end up over by the suits fitting room. There’s a computer desk at the wall opposing the opening at which sits Evelyn. I have the impression that someone’s been trying to call me on this radio, but I’m not entirely sure. I ask Evelyn if they have, and she says yes. Someone (the lady at work with sort of darker skin and frizzy hair who I think is a supervisor and whose name I’m not sure of) starts walking over to me, saying that I didn’t really help my customer if I didn’t completely follow through (referencing the Hispanic man). She directs our attention to the man who is standing on the skywalk, arms crossed, but not in an unpleasant way. He’s wearing a plum colored long sleeve with a vest over it, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He seems dependent on the help, not in a co-dependent way, but more like he is turning the trust over to the employee. I tell this supervisor sorry, I was helping someone else and so my radio was down, slowly adjusting the volume up as I speak. I do feel poorly for leaving him and for not hearing the radio. I tell her I know I was helping him, but I forget what for, and ask if she knows. I genuinely am trying to remember. There’s another employee too, and they look slightly incredulous. I can’t tell if they find it funny or think I’m stupid or both. At one point, someone was ridiculing me for something, and it irritated me enough that I considered bringing it up to someone higher up. Anyway, I attempt to make it right and start walking over to the man. There is a rush of people moving in both directions, causing me to lose sight of him. I reach the top of the incline on this skywalk so I can survey it all the way to the bottom, but he is nowhere to be found. I double back and still, nothing. I’m by an elevator now; it is closing, so I get the notion to jump into it while I can. Literally jumping forward into it, the doors brush me on each side before closing on my JCP key lanyard trailing behind me. I pull it out and turn around to be greeted by two Hispanic men. They both seem genial and good-natured, and they both seem to think my jumping into this elevator was somewhat funny if not unexpected. One of them is shorter and more portly; I think he has a mustache. I dryly say either “that was close” or “just barely made it.” They begin talking to me, slipping into Spanish. It is too fluent for me to understand most of it. I think on a different floor now, I see the door closing. It is closing on a chubby white family with a daughter. I don’t know why we haven’t let them on, so I am awkwardly diverting my glance. Doors closed now, we need to choose a floor. They tell me ‘tres’ and I go to press 3 but mistakenly press something else. I can’t entirely read the numbers on the round, silver buttons. For whatever reason, I end up just pressing all of them, the off white light illuminating behind each in succession downwards. I think the elevator is going to the highest floor first. It ascends, and part of the wall must be glass, because I can see what looks like the Atlantis casino outside the elevator. [As in looking into the Atlantis (from within) from the elevator, not as in looking out at the Atlantis]. I think the men now exit and I continue up one more floor. The doors open, revealing a floor that appears to be one huge hot tub. There’s a low ceiling and dim but colored (blue?) lighting that plays on what is either bubbles or an excess of foam. There’s an unassuming swim up bar, and I think a pool up above it. A young boy climbs up and over the bar counter to get to it. I don’t think I’m in the water, but I am conscious of its proximity to my clothes and my radio. I start to think about staying here and using the hot tub, imagining sneaking onto the hotel room floor to find a towel from a room being serviced or the service cart itself. I wonder if anyone at work would notice my prolonged absence, but figure it’s a large place so maybe not.