The Mall

Casually strolling along hundreds of different stores. Teenagers walking around texting on their blackberries, wearing overpriced T-shirts, waiting in line in front of the cashier, a few exchanging looks and love messages. I wonder if someone from the sky may imagine watching a movie with ten million scenes at a time.
I go to this place very often; the mall. As I hop off of the car, I enjoy the glamorous surroundings leading up to the grand entrance. When I approach the transparent doors, I wait for them to automatically slide open for me, almost as if they were like magnets, pulling me closer and closer. The graceful doors glide open, and I take my first step into the mall. As I enter Gucci, the first store of the mall, a familiar, cool breeze strokes my face. I hear the generic theme song replaying the same few lines over and over again, "Gotta go to Mo's!" Even though Gucci is not my favorite store, entering it symbolizes that I have entered into a realm of my own, a serene world where I am in charge. The mall distracts me from all of the disappointments in my life. That stressful day of school does not seem as stressful. That harsh weather frost no longer seems like the end of the world. Apart from the dwindling size of my wallet, there are no problems when I shop. Everyone at the mall has one motive: to shop. Whether it is to shop for the perfect prom dress or something flattering, we, as shoppers, are all united by our purpose for going to the mall.

Next was a funny coincident waiting for me to grab it. On a fine Wednesday afternoon, my friends and I bunked the last class of the Humanities lesson and headed up to the closest malls where we all used to hang out like a freed-birds of Paris.It seemed as if we were the only three- straws in the hat of a scarecrow who is in the field. Because our stomachs were grumbling like an old chimney of a 1843’s train engine, we decided to fill it first. Our faces were tired and weary because of late night studying for...