Throughout her travels in the mall with Joel and the girls Tess had picked up a backpack along the way and filled it with whatever she thought she would need. She had, for some reason, received a bottle of gin, and it had been a pleasant surprise to receive, tucked away in her pack and secretly cherished. Having gone days without the familiar weight of a pack hanging off of her shoulders had felt too strange, but all was right in the world now that she had a backpack again. It didn't matter that it wasn't her own frayed and raggedy one...as long as she had one.
Also along the way, they had come across a clothing store. Gone was that horrid outfit from the 80s with the short silver skirt that barely covered her assets, replaced with black leggings and a baggy t-shirt, the scoop neck low down her chest. A zip-up hoodie had been snagged and stuffed into her backpack for in case the temperature dropped.
Malls had always been cold, their air conditioning cranked high up. At least that's how Tess had remembered them from her years going through them as a teenager.
The fumes of nail polish, that's a smell she hasn't inhaled in...ever. Too long. It's not only that which draws her further into the store but it's the sound coming from the back and the low, Oh. Sounds feminine. Who could it be? Are they alone? Tess is more than alone, splitting from the group to scout around (risky risky!), constantly throwing glances over her shoulder while she carefully treads from store to store, her skate gripped in her hand as her only weapon. And the 2" Swiss Army knife hidden in one of the small side pouches of her backpack.
no subject
Also along the way, they had come across a clothing store. Gone was that horrid outfit from the 80s with the short silver skirt that barely covered her assets, replaced with black leggings and a baggy t-shirt, the scoop neck low down her chest. A zip-up hoodie had been snagged and stuffed into her backpack for in case the temperature dropped.
Malls had always been cold, their air conditioning cranked high up. At least that's how Tess had remembered them from her years going through them as a teenager.
The fumes of nail polish, that's a smell she hasn't inhaled in...ever. Too long. It's not only that which draws her further into the store but it's the sound coming from the back and the low, Oh. Sounds feminine. Who could it be? Are they alone? Tess is more than alone, splitting from the group to scout around (risky risky!), constantly throwing glances over her shoulder while she carefully treads from store to store, her skate gripped in her hand as her only weapon. And the 2" Swiss Army knife hidden in one of the small side pouches of her backpack.
Her steps slow the closer she gets to the back.