Seeing racks of brightly coloured tops and jeans ripped in just the right way used to get something racing inside, aroused a hunting instinct. It filled a need. Slapping down some plastic and walking out with bags emblazoned with logos like superheroes. The memory of that feeling was just out of reach. Standing next to a rack of jeans, each of which cost her monthly take-home pay - before sales tax - it just didn’t matter.
It lit a tiny spark inside her, a small spark that managed to make it to a little flame. She wanted to get her heart back more than anything. She was prepared to do whatever it took. But the flame quickly guttered and died. Better to go home, go to work like normal and forget the silly idea of doing this any other way.
She walked out the store without picking up a sing
