A Mall Incident

Scene: My friend and I stride up to the entryway of Gilly Hicks in the local mall. A group of sales assistants stand uneasily before us, their expressions a curious mixture of amusement and panic.

A sales assistant clears her throat as we try to move forward and says, "You might not want to go in there."

We pause, confused, and wait for her to explain.

"We have a . . . situation," she continues. "There's a bat in the store, and we can't get rid of it."

Her coworkers giggle nervously. My friend shrugs and starts to enter the store, but my arm snakes out to grab her back as I remember the warnings my younger self was given while camping. "We'll come back later," I tell her, feeling like a bit of a wimp. We make a hasty retreat.

Hmm. I never liked the layout of Gilly Hicks, but it never occurred to me that the dark, claustrophobic atmosphere would be perfect for a little night critter. Or maybe the bat just had an urge to nest among the lingerie?

Oh, suburbia. We have such a love-hate relationship.