describing the trafford centre

Rows of stores stood in a straight single line with outstanding banners stuck on the windows written in bold letters ‘SALE’. Sunlight beamed in through the glass windows of the palace, shining down upon its people. The smell of freshly cooked doughnuts ran away in the open. A toddler was throwing a tantrum over a toy car; he deafened the crowd, who turned silent to glare at the child with rage. People ate mouth-watering hot pasties and freshly cooked fries although it was a sultry day, a day to eat icy cold flavoured ice cream.

‘CLOEY’ as it was written on her black outlined Next badge was becoming frustrated in the small space behind the counter. She sweated through her elegant wear uniform which made it moist and left a rather unpleasant smell. She added perfume to the sweat patches on her clothes to send of the smell. The way she scanned the items on her checker was done with accuracy but very swiftly. The way she talked was done with courtesy and respect. The way she approached the customers to help was very kind and caring. Her appearance showed her character and her wisdom. She worked with passion.

The rush hour had become quieter, quieter and quieter. The place uttered silence as all the shutters locked their mouths. The consumers exited through the unbolted automatic doors. The lights switched off and darkness fell upon the building.