“It looks fine,” she said.

“Really, Mom.

It looks completely fine.”

“You don’t have to wear something just because it only costs twelve dollars,” I said.

“I want to wear it,” she said.

She reached behind her neck and pulled the zipper down herself, stepping out of the heavy blue skirt and letting it fall to the dirty floor.

She pulled her sweater back over her head before I could touch her shoulder.

At the front counter, an old metal cash register dinged when the clerk pressed the key.