a (very) short story
by Lydia Thomas
This is a work of fiction.
“Jenna, would you like to talk about why you’re here today?” the group leader asks.
I think her name is Simone, but I don’t remember, because I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m just going to call her Simone.
“Retail therapy,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry?” Simone asks, eyebrows furrowed together.
I imagine you’re looking at me the same way Simone is right now, so let’s just get this settled right off the bat: it’s not what it sounds like.
“There was an, uh, incident with a customer,” I explain. “This is a condition of my continued employment.”