“This is a disaster,” I told my mother after one near-miss with a dress and bowl of batter.
“Mooooomm! I’m staaaaarving! When’s supper?”
“I’m so sorry about the noise,” I said with a tight smile to the customer who’d come to browse the racks. Even down in the basement, we could hear the sounds of my family upstairs. “Where were we?”
“You were going to check if you have this dress in the green,” she said, and pointed to an item on the rack.
“Yes, let me go see.”
I rummaged through the racks lined against the wall — my store was so tight there was no room to build more racks and unpack the inventory.
I handed my customer the dress and waited for her to try it on. Once she came out of the fitting room — my parents’ laundry room — she twirled in front of the mirror.
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