It genuinely appeared to be wear and tear. I tested my shirt for any other signs of damage and tested for week spots, but didn't find any.
Leaving the straps out would be weird, so I decided to embrace the tank top look and tucked the straps inside the shirt. The small strips of fabric draped down from the front of the shirt, so they rubbed and tickled my breasts a little bit. I grit my teeth and hoped that my nipples wouldn't grow stiff and stick out form my shirt.
The sooner I could finish shopping, the sooner I could go home and change. I redoubled my efforts to find a dress so I could leave.
"Mommy! I want candy!!!" yelled a little boy. He was yelling like only a child could, and his mother was trying her best to ignore him. It appeared that she was also looking for a dress, because she had stopped somewhat close to me. I could see why she was ignoring him. He was running in circles, being all kinds of hyper. No way did he need more sugar.
Abruptly, he turned in my direction. By the time I noticed that his laces were untied, he had already stepped on one of them and tripped over his own feet, barreling into me. His hands raised to find something to grab and found my shirt.
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