Out of disguise

Out of Disguise

I left the house in a rush, half an hour of trying on everything I own, in every way possible, and still nothing would disguise me.
Buses and taxis jeer with their horns as my greying tennis shoes soak through the puddles.
I pass billboards of girls who supposedly could be me, but as I look in the reflective shop windows I can't see any similarity between the mismatched girl and the effortless floating giants above.
Beautiful store fronts ignore me as I walk past. Carefully prepared, delicately scented women graze round the shop floors, served by contemptuous shop assistants who've only ever served me looks of disdain.
It starts to drizzle -impotently depressing- and my shoes embarrassingly squeak with every third step. Carefully counted pennies jingle in my pocket. The next glance at myself shows that my hair is now limply lying on my head, the slightest kinks starting to form.
A young man in a suit walks past me without a glance.
I feel a horrible prickly heat around my neck and back under my large coat, the feeling of sweat in the rain which crushes me even more.
Twenty minutes more of passing things I am denied.
The faces of  lazy, well kept, rich women rile me, their looks down at me from their designer high heels fuel, rather than mortify me. I feel like a machine gaining power, ready to strike back at them. Their money, Their voices. Their smell. Their clothes. All bullets being loaded into my chamber.
The nearest gold handled doors open for me, the clean, comfortable warmth revives me from the dampness of outside. A toothy young woman with red lipstick practises her smile at me,
“ No, I don't need any help, thank you.”
I glide around the clothes feeling a new sense of power. I carefully flick through the hangers, keeping a look of haughty impatience. The red lipstick smiles at me again and turns away.
I lift the hanger from the rack.
I can't even see it. All I see is the glittering floor beneath me and the grand mirrors around me. I can't see myself, only eyes similair to mine looking towards the door.
My shoes stomp not squeak as I head towards the cold air of the sodden streets.
“Have a nice day.” floats from red lips.
I inhale the city air, my cheeks flush with the change in temperature. I feel different. I look down to my bag, I feel the expensive chiffon and finger the silky label, running my little finger over the tiny stitching. My heart punches in my chest, a mighty wave of electricity shoots up my spine and leaves me shivering. I start to walk away, trying to stop my legs from shaking. I look back at the store windows, no one comes after me. All I see is a rich woman smiling.