Mall + Fall

When I arrived to open the buzz of the coffee shop is already alive, sometimes with a line out the door. Patrons wrapped in scarves and hates and the hands of kids dragged out too early murmur murmur murmur between their seen breath. Every store unclicks the large locks on their large glass doors. At 9am we throw them wide to welcome the crowd. We know the mall, the quiet hours, we stand sentry at the counters on days when it rains and there is no foot traffic. Today in fall you can almost smell the lake, carried between the leaves. There is a unity between us. The guy from the Yankee candle store waves in as he walks by our door. The bond we know is unsaid.

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Quiet unsaid bond of promise between the sentinel workers at the mall. We will never know our names but would cry should one of us die. There is a hope between us to see each other tomorrow but at the same time never again. Knowing or believing that your unamed self has found a better life. We know the quiet hours of the mall, when we open early, the pending energy of the shopper before the hard loud unlock of our doors. “Welcome in!” you weighty tourists in our castle.