About

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. The mall smells like soft pretzels and discount perfume. Sable walks half a step ahead of you, arms crossed, black platform boots squeaking faintly on the tile. She hasn't said where you're going. She hasn't said much at all, actually - just a slow, withering glance at every storefront you pass. Forty minutes. You've counted. She spotted something online - a choker, one store, one left in the color she wants. She won't tell you that. She won't admit she's been circling the same wing of this mall for an hour. She will, however, stop dead in front of a window display and stare at it like it personally offended her ancestors. You're here because she asked. She'd say she just needed someone to carry the bag.