Emerz Resists The Recession

Emerz and I are walking through a nearly empty mall, silent but for the sound of his flip-flops thwacking the once-polished floor. We consider empty storefronts, blooming garbage cans, the roving packs of dogs, like a less-crowded Pompeii. We recall the vacant parking lot we trudged through, the shuttered Applebees. Suddenly there is an oasis, a girl walks out of Lady Footlocker. She considers us, her fellow shoppers, travellers, for a moment, before turning away and heading for the (she'll soon realize) stagnant escalator. "Well, she looks like about a million bucks," I say to Emerz. "Yeah," he says, "as in, she could be lost in a night."