A woman who suffers “moods” – moments of dread and quiet despair – finds a kind of relief in a department store encounter.
This is a quiet and haunting little story, extremely ambiguous and slippery, leaving a disquieting tingle behind. In addition to the spirit of Shirley Jackson, it also evokes a little of Patricia Highsmith – there’s a quiet menace to the protagonist’s whispered secrets, and part of me is glad that we never learn what she says.