You are six years old. You are following your mother through Wal-Mart. You see clothes on circle racks and some hanging on the walls. Your mind starts racing with all the “adventures” you could have in this place, like pretending you are superman and flying around “buildings” made of a soda displays or pretending you are a famous British singer and walking around with your shoulders back and talking in a British accent. But you don’t choose to go on an adventure; you choose to scare your mom.
Hiding in the middle of a circle rack filled with t-shits, you wait for your mom to notice you are gone. You never hear her voice raised with panic nor do you see her running around like a crazy person looking for you. You do hear the lady from church, with black hair, that sits two rows down from you. The lady is talking about her son coming home for Christmas to, what looks like, her friend from church. The lady’s voice is full of pride for her son. She doesn’t have a voiced filled with worry about you being missing. The lady from church has no need to worry about you; she doesn’t even know you are at Wal-Mart.
After a while you push aside two blue t-shirts that have that “never been washed before” smell. You peek between them and see Wal-Mart full of people. Some of the people you see are old couples with gray hair and wrinkles, walking around holding hands. Some people are young mothers and fathers with surprised eyes, chasing there kids, trying to get them to behave. Some people are teenagers with fresh faces not marked with life and stress, that are just laughing and having fun with their friends. You don’t see your mom though. Panic starts to set in. A thousand different things run through your mind, like “what if she forgot me?”, “what if she never comes back?” Your eyes fill with big tears that stream down your face, leaving your eyes red and puffy. You taste the salt on your lips from your tears as you push the t-shirts out of your way and look around for your mom. Everyone you see looks at you with pity filled eyes but no one asks you why you are crying. You have to find your mom on your own.