“Andrea, Dear?” I reached my hand across the aisle and took hold of hers. She smiled tiredly, but sweetly, somehow still finding a way to make her eyes sparkle in spite of how exhausting the day had been. We aimlessly drifted like ghosts through the clothing department in search of mercy and rest for our worn out souls and finding neither among the sweaters and socks. Finally, she replied, “Yes.” I glanced over my shoulder at the trail of destruction we were leaving in our wake. “You know, Gideon is high-fiving all of the mannequins, right?” “Yes…” she sighed. “Someone should maybe do something about that.” She closed her eyes and we kept on walking. “Yes…” Somewhere up ahead, Clara casually disappeared into a rack…