So I'm ducking behind the kiosk of fake hair and the 4'2 asian girls scowling at him as he hovers over the sneeze guard at See's. I wonder who he's buying candy for. Himself, right? Because it's not like he wants to be in a relationship or anything.
The asian girl moves and I'm in plain sight. Great. He's going to see me with my Payless Shoe Source bag at the fake hair stand and think even less of me, if that's humanly possible. He would never wear pseudo-boots nor would he need fake hair given that his own is so lustrous.
He doesn't see me. He's too absorbed in truffles. I wonder for a sad lonely moment amid the screaming children and the ginormous nutcrackers if perhaps he's not just an asshole, but he's just as socially inept as me. Maybe he's afraid of me too. That can't possibly mean nothing to him. Maybe that terribly awkward post-relations day after conversation we had in which we barely looked at eachother was just as upsetting for him as it was for me.