Genetic Design for Dying
the thrift store
These streets look much brighter and cleaner than 2045 but this futuristic time is too strange. Everyone seems genuinely happy. There’s nothing really sad about this time, compared to my time. It almost seems superficial and slightly too good to be true. I try to entertain Azaria with this thought but she shut it down all too quickly, probably still moody about our drunken mistake.
“Well, since we’re here, we should find something to eat or whatever,” I suggest while trying to catch up to Azaria walking. She tosses the beer bottle, which is from 2045, into a bin and begins walking down the street towards a small mall.
The shopping center is surrounded by Palm trees that swiftly swayed back and forth. The buildings look symmetrical and uniform, which is cute; reminds me of the town of Stars Hollow from Gilmore Girls. It seems like the shopping center has a color system. As I quickly analyze it, blue boutiques are retail, yellow shops are food chains, and green buildings are recreational centers. It all seems inviting, light and homey. All except for Azaria.
“C’mon Azaria,” I sing, “Can you stop being mad at me? You’re bringing the trip down.”
I felt bad. Really. Ever since we got here, Azaria’s been giving me the cold shoulder. I mean, I was drunk too and I did blurt out numbers while assuming she meant something else.
She sighs, “It’s partially my fault too. I did activate the travel app.”
“Thank you,” I smugly say. I try to hug her but a radiant frown occupies her face that told me to try again later.
I let it go and offer to stop by at a gas station. We first buy some water, and I later find out that my wallet and mints made the trip to this time. I’m slightly better and more awake all because of the walking we’re doing. One weird thing about me is that I need to move around to prevent myself from getting too wasted. Azaria on the other hand hates walking because she feels like it over works her legs, like running somehow makes her stiff. I don't know.
“When can we go back to our time?” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood.
She stays quiet and then asks, “Wanna hit up a store? We look so 2045?” Again, her mood changes but her eyes are still stone.
I agree and silently walk next to her. We wander the streets and to my surprise, many of the stores are open. As we find a small thrift store near the corner of the mall, the bell of the shop welcomes us once we walk through the door.
“Salutations, citizens!” The woman behind a cashier greets us, as she's helping another customer. She’s also sporting a puffer sweater with a white long sleeve beneath it. Her brown hair is twisted into tight curls that hang right below her chin. If you ask me, she looks like she can be from 2025.
“So, what exactly are we looking for here, Raveena?”
I shrug. “I dunno. How do we know what’s in?”
“How can I help you ladies?” The woman who greeted us asks. I look at the name tag on her chest and read Elora.
I smile, “Yeah, we need some help with an outfit change.”
Elora eyes me and Azaria’s outfits and just smile like it’s nothing. “I could help you with that.”
She leads us to another part of the shop and starts to enlighten us about her sales and new items.
“Are you guys in a play or something?” Elora says over her shoulder, probably thinking about the rompers and cardigans Azaria and I are sporting. “You’re dressed like those women over a century ago.”
Azaria laughs and nudges my shoulder. She says, “You could say so.”
“Can you believe people use to dress like that?” Elora continues. She stops walking once she's near the dressing rooms and starts to go through the racks. “Amazing how the trend was booty shorts and those dang crop tops, right?”
Azaria looks a bit thrown off by Elora’s comment. “I mean, not everyone dressed in booty shorts and crop tops. You can’t assume everyone wore that.”
Elora’s eyes widen. “Chill, pepper. It’s just an opinion. And why are you peeved about it? Are you a history major or something?”
Azaria looks at me with a red face. I speak up this time. “Yeah, we’re history majors with a love for historical theatre, okay?”
“Right,” Elora hums. “Well, come look at this, history girls, these are today’s trending outfits.”
“Well, since we’re here, we should find something to eat or whatever,” I suggest while trying to catch up to Azaria walking. She tosses the beer bottle, which is from 2045, into a bin and begins walking down the street towards a small mall.
The shopping center is surrounded by Palm trees that swiftly swayed back and forth. The buildings look symmetrical and uniform, which is cute; reminds me of the town of Stars Hollow from Gilmore Girls. It seems like the shopping center has a color system. As I quickly analyze it, blue boutiques are retail, yellow shops are food chains, and green buildings are recreational centers. It all seems inviting, light and homey. All except for Azaria.
“C’mon Azaria,” I sing, “Can you stop being mad at me? You’re bringing the trip down.”
I felt bad. Really. Ever since we got here, Azaria’s been giving me the cold shoulder. I mean, I was drunk too and I did blurt out numbers while assuming she meant something else.
She sighs, “It’s partially my fault too. I did activate the travel app.”
“Thank you,” I smugly say. I try to hug her but a radiant frown occupies her face that told me to try again later.
I let it go and offer to stop by at a gas station. We first buy some water, and I later find out that my wallet and mints made the trip to this time. I’m slightly better and more awake all because of the walking we’re doing. One weird thing about me is that I need to move around to prevent myself from getting too wasted. Azaria on the other hand hates walking because she feels like it over works her legs, like running somehow makes her stiff. I don't know.
“When can we go back to our time?” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood.
She stays quiet and then asks, “Wanna hit up a store? We look so 2045?” Again, her mood changes but her eyes are still stone.
I agree and silently walk next to her. We wander the streets and to my surprise, many of the stores are open. As we find a small thrift store near the corner of the mall, the bell of the shop welcomes us once we walk through the door.
“Salutations, citizens!” The woman behind a cashier greets us, as she's helping another customer. She’s also sporting a puffer sweater with a white long sleeve beneath it. Her brown hair is twisted into tight curls that hang right below her chin. If you ask me, she looks like she can be from 2025.
“So, what exactly are we looking for here, Raveena?”
I shrug. “I dunno. How do we know what’s in?”
“How can I help you ladies?” The woman who greeted us asks. I look at the name tag on her chest and read Elora.
I smile, “Yeah, we need some help with an outfit change.”
Elora eyes me and Azaria’s outfits and just smile like it’s nothing. “I could help you with that.”
She leads us to another part of the shop and starts to enlighten us about her sales and new items.
“Are you guys in a play or something?” Elora says over her shoulder, probably thinking about the rompers and cardigans Azaria and I are sporting. “You’re dressed like those women over a century ago.”
Azaria laughs and nudges my shoulder. She says, “You could say so.”
“Can you believe people use to dress like that?” Elora continues. She stops walking once she's near the dressing rooms and starts to go through the racks. “Amazing how the trend was booty shorts and those dang crop tops, right?”
Azaria looks a bit thrown off by Elora’s comment. “I mean, not everyone dressed in booty shorts and crop tops. You can’t assume everyone wore that.”
Elora’s eyes widen. “Chill, pepper. It’s just an opinion. And why are you peeved about it? Are you a history major or something?”
Azaria looks at me with a red face. I speak up this time. “Yeah, we’re history majors with a love for historical theatre, okay?”
“Right,” Elora hums. “Well, come look at this, history girls, these are today’s trending outfits.”