Memory is a T.J. Maxx
When she was seventy-three, Mom got arrested at a T.J. Maxx. They brought her to a little security office and laid out the charge: switching price tags, which she denied. "The tag came off! I was trying to fix it!"
I, Thief — Notes from the Purloining Life
I was an artistic kid who wanted to experiment with looks, so when mom was done taking me to the thrift store for back to school shopping (where she must have thought I got everything, because she never asked me about any of my clothes), I hoofed it to the mall.
Ah. The Mall. Many a warm late summer day spent in its confines, layering one pair of pants under another. Putting a nice shirt on underneath a not-so-nice one. Trading a pair of old shoes for new. Pulling off tags and staying away from anything with a magnetic button attached to it.