This is yesterday and my squeaky steps carry me along polished wooden pathways that lead me through an old fashioned department store.
I linger near the lift watching an old woman try on a new coat. Her husband and an eager assistant stand by, ready to offer advice and casual compliments. They seem oblivious to the fact that the coat is far larger than the woman.
That her knees sag under its weight and as the fabric skims the floor her feet are lost. The fur collar has devoured her head and husband is still not alarmed. She is utterly eaten by whatever fake fur beast this coat used to be.
But still she basks under their gaze and the heat of these lights - all aglow from the giant red tag reading ‘£100 off marked price’.