Homelessness and Wet Shoes, 2

Armed with only my wits and charm, and a few hundred bucks in my pocket, I began my journey down the road to Tophet, oblivious to the catastrophe that lies ahead.

I arrived at the Megamall after a ten-minute walk from my place. It was uneventful except that I was stopped by an old little lady asking me to open her bottle of mineral water. But the damn bottle was so tightly sealed I couldn’t open it.

I handed it back to the old lady saying I was sorry. She just nodded, and I walked away.

When my back was turned, I heard her mumble stuff in a dialect I could not understand, Ifugao probably. I spun around to ask what it was but the old lady already disappeared.

Was it a sign? Was she cursing me for failing to open her bottle?

Seattle’s best, at last. I ordered my usual Grande Drip and waited for the barista to fill my cup. I looked around and realized that the place was jam-packed with humans. Every table was taken, so I told myself, “Okay, I’ll just take this home."

But by some twist of fate, as soon as I came out, a table was emptied; and my favorite spot at that! Another sign? Maybe. But my mind was just a blur I couldn’t think of anything else aside from having my coffee “right here, right now.” Besides I’ve just arrived and I want to rest my feet for awhile.

After 30 minutes or so, boredom struck yet again. “Alright!” I said. “Just ten minutes and then I’ll head for home.” I stood up, grabbed my coffee cup and proceeded to the nearest entrance to the mall.

SALE! The Sale! signs welcomed me. Boutiques and shops screaming with SALE SALE SALE signs. I’m not so much of a shopping person, in fact I detest shopping. It’s a waste of time; I’d rather watch stupid movies than go shopping and get varicose veins. “But I have a lot of time to kill. So,” I muttered, “I’ll just window-shop."

(to be concluded...)