“I’m sorry, sir, but all I took in there was this dress. I’m planning on paying for it right now, actually. Is that ok?” I try to play nice, but it’s hard. The girls are laughing, and Amber looks smug, not scared. This is definitely not the best position to be in, as most people still view Numans with mild distrust. I empty my pockets (even the 6 of them in my jacket), and move toward the counter.

“Hold on, you mean you’re not going to arrest her or anything?” the shrill voice of baby hate resonates through the store, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The guard shakes his head, obviously sad that he can’t detain me for anything, and starts to walk away. This is it, they’re allowed to do this, in front of “civilized” people, and I’m the one afraid for my freedom.

Yeah, screw that.

“Excuse me, sir,” I start, moving toward the man, abandoning the cute dress on the counter, “I’ll be back in a minute.” I say to Amber, who starts to fold it. Idiot. “Sir, excuse me.” He stops and turns, peeved.