Mary left her morals on the dirty floor buried beneath her discarded clothing. They peeked out at her now and then while the stranger grunted
above her and the springs of the hotel bed squeaked, but she looked away so
she didn't have to acknowledge them. She saw her self-respect peer in
from the hallway, battered and neglected, and felt pangs of guilt.
Later, as she dressed and crammed the wad of bills from the dresser into her
purse, she felt her conscience tugging at her sleeve and shoved it backward
into the wall. A fine shower of dust fell upon it, and the picture above
rocked on its nail, threatening to fall. She spun around to face it and
found it cowering, crying, with its face pressed against the faded flower wallpaper. "Fuck!" she shouted, and stomped out of the room, slamming the door
behind her.
An hour later she was in a long line up at a checkout counter clutching
a large yellow box tight against her chest. Her eyes darting warily from one
face to the next while Christmas music assaulted her ears and garish lights blinked
on and off around her. Finally, reaching the front of the line, she handed the
doll to the
pony-tailed cashier who smiled cheerily at her.
"This is the season's must-have doll." The girl said, chomping on her gum a
couple times while scanning the box. "We've run out of these things three
times this month and had to restock them. You've got a lucky little girl,
you do."
Mary nodded, and handed the teenager a wad of bunched up bills. The
cashier accepted them, taking her time straightening them out before placing
them in the cash register.
"You'd be surprised what people will do for these dolls," the cashier said,
putting the doll in a bag emblazoned with the store's logo.
Mary laughed then, a brittle sounding laugh that caused everyone around her
to pause, and made the cashier's cheery smile falter just a little. "No,
I don't think I would be," she said quietly.
