gwendolyn

I had to accompany my mother to the immense carpet store in Merrillville. Alright-- so I wasn't forced at gunpoint, but there was talk of Japanese food afterwards, if I decided to go along for the ride, and so I did.

I went in and immediately became agoraphobic at the sight of the high ceilings and random open spaces in between attractively lit displays of carpet samples.

The girl in the powder blue turtleneck helped my mother fill out the paperwork for the new living room carpet. The carpet that is to replace the well-worn forest green shag carpeting, which, once upon a time I would lie down on to watch Sesame Street. (It's an ancient carpet, still charming only to me.)

I found a dark secret room behind a group of hanging Oriental rugs and inside was a playhouse and some panda bear shaped rugs. I was curious as to why a carpet store needed a kids' room, but I liked sitting on the floor inside the playhouse, so I didn't complain.

I meandered back over to where the girl was calculating the price of the carpet. This girl would never be a movie star, but she was nice to look at. She had blonde hair and pretty, long, dark candy-apple red nails. She threw back her head just far enough to laugh at my mother's tedious, silly comments. She said she liked my hair, and I wondered if she laughed at girls like me when she was still in high school. I wondered if she had a boyfriend who looked like the one I pictured for her. I wondered how fast she drove on the expressway and I wondered if she had sitcom friends. I thought about where she should live, and it was nice and sunny in my head.

I was sure she was close to perfect-- so I wondered if she ever went home and cried.

I was sure she didn't.

She had such a nice smile.