He sighed, wanting to take his mind off all that right now. He needed to focus and figure out something to get Jenny for Christmas.

There was a beautiful madness in the middle of this shopping mall. Impeccably dressed, finely scented, and endlessly smiling, the patrons knew this day well. They waited for it. But he was here because he needed to make amends for neglecting Christmas shopping the year before. Last year he’d waited for the last minute only to hastily buy a few gift cards that anybody could have gotten at the corner drugstore. Jenny was spending the day shopping with a friend. She would probably be tired by noon anyway.

The crowds flowing by him like a steady creek made him feel claustrophobic. Maybe it was because it had been a while since he’d come to the Haywood Mall. Or because he hadn’t gone shopping on the day after Thanksgiving since . . . since he could remember. People moved like shuffling zombies, their eyes fixed on the next purchase they could devour. Kevin just wanted to find a telephone booth and close himself inside of it. Of course, pay phones were extinct in this world, not to mention the booths surrounding them.

He thought back to Christmas mornings when his parents didn’t have much. Those gifts he’d received meant everything, even if he never did get an Atari like his other buddies. That was okay. Even as a kid, he knew that Dad was trying his best.

Now the promise of Christmas seemed to be more about which salesclerk made the best pitch. For a second Kevin surveyed the scene. Amid the flurry of people, he could make out the fine print.

Price tags. A number after a dollar sign. Everything in this place added up to dollars and cents. The racks of clothes and the aisles of shoes and the walls of mannequins and the posters of models all wanted to be inspected, and all tried to entice. Hope was just one transaction away. You could have a better life in just a matter of moments if you simply put down your credit card and charged away your worries.

Kevin stood near the front or the back of the store, whatever they called it, the exit that led to the rest of the mall. But it wasn’t an exit to him. An exit was more like a fire escape, a door he could open to daylight and the parking lot so he could flee this mayhem. He stood looking at the people pouring in and pouring out of the department store. So much for a struggling economy. So much for a recession. Maybe people hadn’t gotten the message, because they were out here in droves with hands full of stuff.

More and more stuff.

He checked his phone again out of habit and need. It was a sanity check, his security blanket.

I’m not going to find anything in here. He had scanned the store and made a couple of circles but that was like walking around a swimming pool without ever getting wet. All these others had dived in, checking out sizes and sales, trying things on. That was part of shopping, finding the good deal, finding that hidden gem amid everything else. But he didn’t have the time or the patience. All he wanted to do was get out of here.