She stepped up to the counter in the middle o’ the mall with glances thrown all round. She felt as if her collar were thickening round her throat.
“¿How may I help you, sir?” said the attendant with a short tilt o’ his head. The way his bangs moved as he talked & the apple smell o’ his shampoo made her ache.
“I, uh, need to return these dresses…”
She quickly stacked 3 dresses—1 green, 1 grayish-blue, & 1 red—onto the counter. The attendant stared @ them with wide eyes for a second & then looked up @ her with sly lids. Without a word, he slid the dresses to his side & under the counter, & then slid from his side an unmarked envelope.
She took the envelope & quickened out the front, her clomping heels sounding like death nells.
She stood on the front, averting her eyes from all the passersby & checking her phone clock every second.
Then she saw it rise from the distance.
The air whirlpool.