I stepped out of the changing room, a handful of shirts slung over one arm and an undeniably cool jacket draped over the other. My friend, Jake, looked up and nodded his approval.
‘Very nice,’ he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. ‘All on sale?’
‘Of course,’ I snorted. ‘You think I’d be shopping here if it wasn’t a reasonable price?’
He shrugged, already uninterested in everything I was about to say. ‘Hey,’ he said quickly, ‘do you mind if we duck into that shoe store across the road a bit?’
‘Didn’t you just blow your last paycheque on stupidly expensive shoes?’ I frowned, leading him towards the checkout.
‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s not shoes I’m after – my podiatrist recommended compression socks, to help with my feet aching.’
I swiped my card in the machine and smiled my thanks at the lady who had scanned all of my shirts. She was still folding them into the bag, so I turned and gave Jake another frown.
‘Your podiatrist said you should get compression socks?’
‘Yep,’ he nodded. ‘Said it’s pretty common, all things considered.’
‘What things?’
‘You know,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘My age, my level of fitness, the amount of running around that I do.’
‘You work nine-to-five in an office selling insurance,’ I laughed. ‘And on the weekends you sit on the couch and play video games until your mum tells you to turn the TV off and go to bed.’
‘It’s one of the most common foot conditions in Melbourne,’ he said annoyedly, screwing his face up into a scowl. ‘Give me a break, would you?’
Still chuckling, I turned around to thank the lady holding my bag again.
‘Have a great day,’ she said, in a well-practised manner.
‘You too,’ I said, also on auto-pilot.
‘It’s true, you know,’ she said quietly, as I lifted the bag away from her.
‘What’s that?’
She snuck a glance left and right in the empty clothing store – then whipped her leg onto the counter and pulled up her jeans.
‘Are they…’ Jake asked meekly.
‘Compression socks,’ she nodded, seriously. ‘They’ll change your life.’