Trapped

The automatic sliding door at the entrance I always use at our mall will never, ever open to let me out. It's like the mall's way of telling me "No, Taylor. Don't go back to work. Stay inside and shop in me forever..."

And so I bought yet another polka dot sweater (and not even the one below--another one) in hopes that maybe the mall will be appeased and let me out legitmately instead of having to sneak out by pretending to be with groups of random strangers.

Or, you know, just use the regular door.

T