I’m 58, and one day, I went to the mall to buy some new clothes

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Her heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor as she came toward me, laptop tucked under one arm like a shield. I braced myself. I thought she was going to back up her daughter. I mean—why wouldn’t she? Blood is thicker than water, right?


But then she stopped, turned to her daughter, and said in the most level, cold voice I’ve ever heard:

“Rhiannon. Staff room. Now.”


The girl’s smirk faded in an instant. “But—Mom—she—”

“Now,” her mom said again, without raising her voice. And let me tell you, that silence? Louder than any yelling.


Rhiannon stomped off, muttering under her breath, but didn’t dare argue. I stood there frozen, dress still lying on the floor, wondering what was happening.


The woman turned to me, her face softening just slightly. “Hi. I’m Carmela. I’m the owner.”


I nodded, unsure of what to say. My heart was still pounding.


“I’m really, really sorry,” she said, picking up the dress I’d dropped. “I saw the footage from the security cam. Everything. You did nothing wrong.”


She gestured to a small sitting area near the fitting rooms. “Would you mind talking with me for a few minutes?”


I hesitated but followed. We sat across from each other like two women from completely different lives—but somehow, the same.


Carmela looked down for a moment, then met my eyes. “She wasn’t always like this. Rhiannon. Honestly, I barely recognize her lately. She used to help me fold clothes, clean the mirrors, even style mannequins for fun. She loved being here. But since she started hanging out with this new crowd, it’s like everything I raised her to be has vanished.”


I could see the pain in her face. The kind of tired that has nothing to do with sleep.


“I’m not telling you this to make excuses,” she added quickly. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe I needed to say it out loud.”


I nodded slowly. “I get it. I have two sons. There were a few years where I didn’t recognize them, either.”

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