I work in a small clothing store tucked inside a quiet shopping plaza. A few months ago, a couple started coming in every week. They’d browse together, pick out a few things, and then spend nearly half an hour in the fitting room. At first, it just seemed odd. Most customers didn’t take that long, and the owner started to get suspicious.
One afternoon, after they’d gone in again with an armful of clothes, the owner called our security guard. He wasn’t angry — just concerned that maybe something inappropriate or dishonest was going on. When the guard gently knocked on the door, a man’s soft voice answered, “Please, give us a minute.” But the tone wasn’t defensive — it was nervous, almost apologetic.
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