As I was browsing the racks, I felt my top go slack. A quick glance at my shoulders revealed that the spaghetti straps on my shirt had broken. Nothing inappropriate was showing, but my shirt was basically reduced to a tank top.
"Damn it," I murmured quietly. This was one of my favorite tops and I'd had it for years. The threads that anchored the straps to the shirt at the front had broken, and the straps had given way. I could see this being incidental, but I'd worn the shirt recently and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. Could it have been sabotaged? I wouldn't put it past Lisa.
At this point, I just wanted to get the dress and get out. The sooner the better. However, I was in the clothing department of a store surrounded by clothing. It would be easy to buy a new top in addition to the dress if I so chose to.
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