Mermaids Miss

In front of me stood the warehouse. It was twice my height, with dusty windows that used to show workers packaging boxes meant to go out to a few clothes stores in a seventy-mile radius. The store moved out in 2011, and some lass bought it and turned it into a shelter.

I had been here once. My mother was worried about me and took me here to do community services. I passed out soup we no longer wanted, and while I was miserable at the time, I now am so thankful since it gave me an opportunity to memorize the layout.

Stepping in, I was hit with the odor of stale air. Dust covered most things, and it was evident that no one had cared about it since it was bought. There were a few spots where the floor was clearly visible, mostly footprints or what I could only assume were sleeping bags.

Apart from a few wooden chairs placed around the room, it was empty.  This was a little shocking, but at the same time I was relieved. I'd rather not waste any sandwiches, thank you very much. Walking to the office, I opened my briefcase and moved everything off the clothes.

Looking back, I should have planted the clothes in the basement.