Claire Skinner Value World The smell here is fur, rot, and ordinary disaster: cracked teacups, some kid's wind-up toy, and fake flowers overflowing from a plastic basket. A man in beige pants follows me up and down the aisles as I finger the chenille, the racks of dusty leather. He's smiling at me, vaguely, as if he knows how I speak to my mother when I'm angry. A woman from the shoe aisle shouts that someone has touched her inappropriately but everyone walks in the other direction and I look away. I didn't promise I was kind. I'm trying on a pair of pink velvet shoes that fit, perfectly. I plan to wear them in the other version of my life, where these shoes are new and I'd never leave the aquarium so dirty I felt certain my fish would die. Oh, never mind. This blouse is silk and creamy gold. This dress from Ann Taylor is beautiful, almost not old, except for this stain on the thigh. This red dot means it's on sale, $2.99.