Page 67 - The Houseguest

anyway. There were about 8 or 9 customers shopping the racks and shelves filled with gently worn clothing and household goods. He watched, waiting for the perfect opportunity of distraction. He recognized that same buzz he used to feel when pulling off some petty theft and wondered why nothing in a world of normal activities offered him such a thrill as the threat of danger. A customer requested assistance from one of the two-person staff, giving him the chance to take the suit into a makeshift dressing room undetected. He immediately undressed and put on the grey ensemble. Though he’d lost a measurable amount of weight in prison, his suit size had remained close to the same. Besides, he’d gain the weight back soon enough to fill it in better.
He glanced quickly in a mirror clouded with age. It wasn’t what he’d choose if circumstances were different, but it would pass. He ripped off the improvised price tags and crammed his old khakis and shirt into the camo backpack he’d worn into the store. Peeking through the torn curtain, he noticed the second staffer captivated by the screen on his cell phone. Seizing this second opportunity, he walked nonchalantly over to the shoes remembering how good he was at this and how much pleasure he derived from attaining things he didn’t have to pay for. It brought satisfaction knowing he was successfully inflicting some small revenge on a world that had done him so badly. He grabbed some size 10 black loafers figuring there was no need to try them on, for that would simply cause him to spend more time in the store than necessary. Wearing his gently used suit, he walked casually to the counter carrying the loafers. The unconcerned millennial behind the counter
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life