For the thrill

Memoir, 2026

“Can you come back to the store?” the woman asks. Her face is serious. She has straight brown hair and a lanyard around her neck. She’s looking at Sally while I browse the racks inside Ice and pretend that we haven’t done anything wrong. I barely feel as though I’m breathing, but I still push the coathangers together and apart, pretending that I’m interested in whatever cheap T-shirts they’re selling.