Let Me Out

It’s finally Friday! After a full day of teaching, it feels like my energy has been drained. So, I decided to do something for myself—give myself a little gift, just like I do for my students. Maybe it’ll cheer me up. I jumped into my car, buckled up, and got ready for my next adventure to the store. Strangely, my face wasn’t smiling. It was serious, as if this were a routine every single Friday. Or maybe it was! Was I shopping last Friday too? I can’t quite remember. Well, after thirty, everything changes—that’s what they say, right?

I parked in front of the store and walked toward the entrance, where the shopping carts were waiting. As usual, I grabbed one, like an old friend. Very strange, though—this cart was making an odd noise. It wasn’t just a squeak; something was different. It felt like the cart wanted to tell me something. I ignored it and went straight to the shoes. I was looking for another pair to add to my collection, even though I’d probably only wear them once. “But they’re only $13! I can’t leave without buying them, right?” I thought. Of course, I didn’t need them, so I left them on the shelf.

I was lost in the colors, patterns, and shine of the clothes when I heard a voice calling, “Mom! Mom!” I knew my son was with his grandmother, so I thought nothing of it. Then, I felt a touch on my left arm. “Mom! Why don’t you answer? Mom!” I froze for a second. I don’t have a daughter, I have a son. “Oh, I’m sorry! You’re not my mom. Please forgive me!” The girl walked away, embarrassed. It was strange—I’d always dreamed of having a daughter, and for a moment, I felt happy and different. But it was just an illusion, a brief fantasy.

I turned back to the clothes. There, among the autumn blouses, I spotted a green one with long sleeves. “Do I really need this?” I wondered. “I’m sure I already have something like it, just in a different color. I don’t need it!” I tried to convince myself. Then, something soft and cold touched my hand, and a voice whispered, almost like a child’s voice—thin and eerie. “Look here.”

“Wha—what?” I stammered, dropping the blouse to the floor. But the blouse didn’t fall. No, it lunged at me, wrapping its sparkly arms around my wrist. For a moment, I felt something cold, something almost alive. “You don’t know it yet, but I need you,” it whispered, its sequins shimmering like stars.

I quickly grabbed it and hastily tossed it onto the shelf, glancing around, embarrassed. “I hope no one saw me talking to a blouse. They’ll think I’m crazy!” My heart raced as I ran toward the fitting room, for no reason other than to calm myself. When I looked in the mirror, I touched my face to make sure it was really me. But then, the lights flickered. In the mirror, I saw different versions of myself. Something was wrong. “You think you’re better than this? Hahaha, you’d wish. Do you know what you are? A failure. Admit it,” a voice sneered. My heart pounded, and I screamed. The door was locked. I was trapped. The ceiling seemed to shrink, and I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out. I gathered all my strength and kicked the door open.

Then, from a distance, I heard a conversation that sent chills down my spine. The cashier was talking to a customer who was crying. From what I gathered, her pants didn’t fit, and she wanted to exchange them. The cashier asked, “Do you have the receipt?”

“The receipt?” the customer asked, confused. “I don’t need a receipt, I just need…”

The cashier smiled, an unnerving grin, as if she were about to suffocate the customer. Then, she called out, “Next!”

I walked to the counter without understanding why, holding a jacket I didn’t remember picking up. The cashier made a strange click when I placed it down, like a desperate plea. I swiped my card, but it didn’t go through. “Card error.”

“But I have money in my account! Why is this happening?” I said, panicking.

She looked at me strangely, smiling as if she knew something I didn’t. I thought she handed me a receipt, but it wasn’t a receipt—it was a puzzle. The message read: “To take this jacket, you must find what you have lost.”

Before I could ask what that meant, the store erupted into chaos. The shelves stood up on their own. “We got tired of waiting for you,” they declared.

The mannequins, never before moving, suddenly came to life. “We’re tired of being ignored! Enough!” they shouted.

Customers, terrified, rushed toward the exit, but there was no exit. The doors had disappeared. The mannequins had taken their place, holding a megaphone: “JOIN US OR SHOP FOREVER.”

And then, something inside me clicked. I realized, “I will never leave here—physically, spiritually, or mentally. This isn’t just a store. It’s a place where you lose your soul, and I’ve paid the price…”