I just wanted pants. Simple, classic black ones. Not too tight, not too loose. You know, the kind that don’t make a statement — they just do their job. Found them. Tried them on. They fit like destiny. I paid, smiled at the cashier, and headed toward the exit feeling like a responsible adult who finally has her life together.

And then — “BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!”

Every head turns. I freeze mid-step. The alarm's screaming like I just robbed a bank. A security guard, serious like a movie cop, waves me back inside. “Please step aside, ma’am.”

I’m holding my bag. My receipt. My dignity — barely. People start slowing down to watch, pretending they’re not watching. I look guilty even though I’ve done nothing wrong. My heart is racing. My cheeks are on fire. I start overexplaining like I’m auditioning for a role in a crime drama.

Turns out, the cashier forgot to remove the plastic security tag.

She laughs, says, “Oh, that happens sometimes.”

SOMETIMES?! Meanwhile, I’m already planning my new life under a fake name. When they finally remove the tag, I walk out again — slower this time — like I’ve just been pardoned.

And now I live in fear that any store alarm might betray me again. 😅