Say

I'm running out of things to say. Outside of 'come back, I need you, please stay,' we're running out of things to say. 'I'm fine... yup...' So out of things to say. So many little lies we tell to clerks, lovers, and friends. Sometimes, a thoughtless or unknowing 'How are you?' should be met with an arresting inability to speak. What if I said, 'I'm sad or lost, I'm just here to distract myself with colors, families, dreams, and shiny things. This is just retail therapy... but you can show me that lipstick over there... How are you?' If I can't look you in the eyes, it's because you will read me, see me. 'I'm fine.' Otherwise, what do I really say?

Marshall’s is my favorite store... It's like my mecca. I go there to think, to process. I cannot count the number of moments I have wandered through the housewares aisle, wondering what the heck just happened, or I need a new blouse or pair of shoes because my ex-boyfriend is in town, and nothing in my closet is satisfactorily going to make him miss me enough... not you...

Honestly though, it's the smell, and the ability to disappear and look at attainable linens that might remake the bed, or my life, into some clean slate. Also, outside of the offering of a cart, the attendants leave you alone. They are kind and helpful, but you can wander lost in thought without having to respond to any requisite 'How are you?' It’s my safe place to think or dream. 'Can I help you find something?' Honestly, if you could, I wouldn’t be here... but those shoes though! They CAN!

I am not advocating retail therapy, really. I am just wondering if we actually hinted at how we felt when asked, what would happen next? I think it might be nice. It opens the world to the opportunity for gestures of kindness we otherwise miss... because we did not say..."