1 of 11

Write now Article Tools

Page 2 of 3

economy collapsed. All that remains are dangling signs and shattered displays.

Emily had been a manager in a fairly large corporation. She had matriculated from a good college with a B.S. in Business Administration and concentrated, ironically, in retail marketing, but her coursework did not cover the complete collapse of the economic system. The Boston Consulting Group's Matrix of products using stars, question marks, cash cows and dogs did not have symbols for mildly moldy or barely torn or discarded.

Her company, unable to compete under the new clean energy and security act legislation, was forced to close. But she wasn't alone; most all industry was forced to shut down, leaving the majority of Americans out of work. Rioting and looting begat theft and assault which begat scrounging and foraging. Laws that were intended to preserve life were ending it.

Avoiding the bonfires burning in the mall's center hub, Emily gazed up at the few Turkey Vultures soaring on the thermals rising protected from the harsh wind outside. She shared a strange kindred with the birds, both scavengers, both shopping at the mall. Her favorite store had always been the Coach store. It greeted her with the musky scent of leather and the crisp citrus perfumes and body sprays in perfect contrast yet perfect agreement. Emily's reminiscing smile curled under when she entered the shop, as this time the combination musty cloth and pungent urine met her at the doorway. In spite of the smell disappointing her olfactory memory, she continued inside. She needed a sturdy bag and she hoped there may still be a backpack, or a large hobo or flap shoulder bag hiding under the torn boxes and unfurled ribbon. A traditionalist, she preferred the classic signature collection, but at this point she would settle for a maggie, a clover, or even the tattoo style. She chuckled to herself as she listed the collections out loud.

"Success!" Emily proclaimed in a loud but scratchy voice, finding a leather cross-body flap bag. In her exultation, she spun around and came face to face with a wiry-haired man. She stumbled back and gasped to catch the breath that had escaped her like a deflating balloon. Consumed by the putrid odor that poured from his scarcely-toothed mouth, she pushed one hand forward in clear rejection to his invasion of her space. She clutched her new bag tightly in her other hand behind her back. His yellow eyes pierced through his dirt-smudged face and spawned

• << previous page
• 1
• 2
• 3
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Tales from the mall?
We want to hear your view. Write now!