malling

"let me check your bag, sir."

the guard poked his cudgel inside my postman bag and decidedly twisted it around, dog-earring and crumpling my taxonomy books. satisfied, he removed his cudgel and carefully dropped my bag on my side, but not after squeezing the canvas outer one more time.

"there you go, sir. have a great time."

i said "yeah," before entering the mall.

i was greeted by a heavy blast of air from a blower above the main glass entrance. the distinctive mall smell wafted across my nostrils. it was a mix of oily food smell and cold sweat.