I always shop at thrift stores. Nice clothes and cheap as dirt.
Mary comes from a loaded family. She moved into my apartment building after a fight with her parents about her independence, but she still gets an allowance from her parents. She's used to shopping at fancy places that cater to the wealthier class.
Unlike me, Mary also enjoys the process of shopping. My feet are throbbing by the time we've finalized the purchase of my new shoes.
"Let's get a purse to match!" my friend says excitedly.
I turn around to face her, putting my hand on her shoulder, my expression grim. "Mary, you know I love you, don't you?"
She nods happily.
"Then, know I say this with all the love in my heart, and more: if I have to go to another store with you, I'm going to kill myself."
Mary stares at me. "You don't like shopping."
"I hate it. I like spending time with you, but I truly hate shopping."
"But we have to get—"
