Impulsion

Created for this YeahWrite prompt.

It wasn’t her fault. Well, it was. But it wasn’t. She couldn’t help herself. She’d walk into a store and it would hit her. The smell, the scent of new leather, never-been-worn Prada pumps, silk and satin, lace and tool. She’d look at the racks, perfectly placed. Filled with designer labels hanging neatly on wooden hangers. The glistening lights, the fresh-cut flowers, the pristine fitting rooms, the overly-helpful sales associates. She just couldn’t help herself. It sucked her in. Suffocated her, in a good way. 

When she put the clothes on, she felt beautiful. She’d look in the mirror, at these gorgeous pieces of fashion, hanging on her body, and all of her problems would disappear. They were way out of her price-range, she knew that walking in. But how could she refuse? She couldn’t possibly put these magnificent garments back on the rack, and walk out, go home, empty handed. What would these women think of her? That she was too poor, for sure. That she’d just come in to play dress-up, a real-life Barbie. It was true of course, she couldn’t afford these prices. But the humiliation would just be to great.

She hands the impeccably dressed cashier, with her manicured nails and diamond earrings, and sporting the perfect smoky-eye, her credit card. While trying to hide her own chewed nails and fake-gold ring, the one that turns her finger green. When she sees the plastic slide through the machine, and hears the sweet jingle of a new purchase, half of her wants to cheer in delight, and the other half wants to vomit all over the marble counter top. She can practically see the dollar signs glistening in the woman’s eyes.

She takes the bag, and starts her walk home. She pretends that there’s a black town car waiting around the block, to take her back to her upper-west-side condo, and tries not to think about the crowded subway that will actually be shuttling her back to her squalid little apartment in Queens. She feels the weight of the garment bag over her shoulder, and pictures all the great new outfits she’ll have to wear to the office next week. If she actually had a job with an office, of course. 

She wants to throw up again.