The heavy wooden door creaks as I open it, the perfumed air from inside the building hitting me with its scent. I step inside, glancing down at the faded red carpet as the bell rings at my arrival.

          The aged cashier looks up from her novel to greet me with a smile. "Hey, Kyla. Fancy seeing you here!" She smirks. I grin back at her.

          "Just coming in to check the new clothes you got, Marley. You know I'm always here for the new shipments. Where else would I get the clothes that are cheaper than a McDonald's burger," I ask jokingly. She knows I don't mean it, but its a running joke between us. 

          "Well you've come to the right place. You need any help getting into the storage room? I'm pretty sure you know where the key is, but you never know..." Marley asks, already getting comfortable in her chair.

          "No, I've got it," I chuckle. "It's not as if you would have actually got up and shown me anyway. You'd probably die if you were forced to leave your chair and that book." 

          I walk through the tasseled curtains to the back door, and open the mirror up. Untying the key from its place, I unlock the door and step inside the "warehouse." Marley keeps trying to get me to call it a warehouse, but it's more like an over-sized closet, filled to the brim with racks and piles of used clothing. There really isn't a system of organization in here, but things always seemed to be dumped in a general area. But I don't need to know sizes really. All I need to know is the type of person who would wear the item of clothing. And that's not even really a need, because I could figure it out anyway. You see, I can't wear this used clothing. I could put it on sure, but if I looked in a mirror, I wouldn't still be myself. Instead, I'd be whoever had owned the shirt, the jeans, the headband. Tall 14 year old girl? Sure. Pimply 17 year old boy? It's happened. Even a 30 year old woman. All I need is to put on their clothing. It comes in handy sometimes, but sometimes I really just wish I could just put on the clothing I bought without morphing into a stranger.

          Brushing off the moment of self pity, I walk over to where I can normally find some teen clothes and touch a jean jacket.          

          A girl with long wavy brown hair and tanned skin. She smiles at a man, her father, and I get a flash of snow white teeth. "I can give up the jacket Dad. It's no big deal, we need the money more than I need  a stupid fashion accessory." She turns away so he doesn't see the tears stinging her large green eyes.

          I rip my hand away from the fabric. I'd love to have the opportunity to look like her, but I could never wear that jacket. It meant too much to the girl for me to use it as just another one of my appearances. And besides, I'd never be able to enjoy looking like her because of the story behind it. I put the jacket down gently and glance around for another piece of clothing to investigate. Hopefully something less meaningful. My eyes rest on a sleeveless red blouse and I pick it up. 

          A girl with auburn hair and short stature. She swings on a porch swing  in front of her house leisurely, smartphone in hand. She is texting with a smile on her freckled face, her midnight blue nails tapping an uneven rhythm on the screen. A friend, then. An enemy wouldn't give her such a smile. She blushes, her porcelain cheeks turning rose. Ah. Someone she wants to be more than a friend. 

          Pulling myself away from the vision, I smile. This is the sort of item I want for an appearance. Nothing too strong associated with it, and the feeling is positive. Plus, I get the added bonus that it's cute. Too bad no one will ever get to see me in it. I fold up the shirt and set it on a  nearby rack of clothes. Walking over to the women's pile, I look around for a shirt. I need more looks that could pass for an adult, and I'd rather not get any extra body parts, like the one's I get when I become a male figure. I don't see a shirt, but I do see a black skirt that I pick up.

          A woman with straightened black hair sits on the bench in the pouring rain, water dripping off her umbrella and her crying face. Looking up ahead, she glances at the coffin and drops her head again, her sobs renewed. She leans her head on the person's shoulder next to her and wrings the tissue in her hands over her skirt. The person, not her husband, who I get the sense is in the coffin, hugs her. He takes off her wedding ring and hands it to her. She looks down at it, tears trickling to her chin, and gets up. She walks to the coffin, lays the ring on top, then runs to her car bawling.   

       Great. Two out of three pieces of clothing that I can't buy, infused with the spirits of the poor and mourning. What's wrong with me? Why couldn't I pick some simple clothing, with only the thoughts of a summers day, or a dance, or something that wouldn't make me feel bad about wearing it. I sigh and pick up the red shirt. Might as well get something good out of this trip. I bring the shirt to the register and see Marley's face wrinkle into a confused frown. 

          "Only one top? Something wrong? You normally come out of the back room loaded down with three bags full of random stuff. And today you have one normal top. Not even a boys top!"

          " I have a small headache, I'm sure I'll be fine," I reassure Marley. If she starts worrying about me when I don't spend a ton of money on clothes, imagine what would happen if I told her what I use the clothes for. 

          "Well ok then girly. You rest up and drink plenty of water." She hands me the shirt. "You feel better soon, and then when you do, come back and get your usual haul of clothes. For now, the shirt's on me."

          I give her a tired smile. "Thanks Marley. You've always got my back."

          "Don't mention it. Now get girl, your headache isn't going to get any better flapping your gums with an old lady." 

          I open the heavy wooden door again, giving  an exaggerated fake wince for Marley's sake at the sound of the bell, and start walking home. I should feel bad about lying to the old woman, but I couldn't tell her that I was tired out from the emotional visions now could I? I hate lying to Marley but I know it's best. If someone finds out about what I could do there is no tellling what would happen.

          I slow my walk as I finish the half mile stroll to my house and approach the wrought iron gate. I sigh. Why is having a power so complicated? I open the metal gate with the key from my key ring and walk up to the front door. I reach up to unlock the door and freeze. I don't need to unlock the door. The front door was already unlocked. Somebody was in my house.

Hey guys. So I was thinking of doing like a little author's note at the bottom of every chapter. This would allow me to ask you guys questions about what you want to see in the next chapter, or just elaborate a little on a character. Tell me in the comments what you think. I'll try to reply to them all.