Mall Walkers

There is a certain breed of people who get up at a quarter past dawn, slip on their polyester vests, or push the last button through the hole of their cardigan sweater and slip on their Reeboks and head to the nearest mall. These people are known as the mall walkers. A peculiar group of people, usually nearing the hill or clamoring down it, they swarm to the vanity like bears on honey, eager to begin what they call their morning exercises.
They walk in clusters, greeting each other like friendly neighbors. Their pace is quick, happy for once to be ahead of the crowd rather than falling behind it. The halls are quiet, save for their cheerful voices as they call out to others, the mall won’t open for another two hours; in which it will then be filled with the voices of teenagers and frantic Christmas shoppers, scampering from store to store with a look of panic in their eyes and promises of not waiting so long next year floating in their minds.
They walk with confidence and ease, they’re only obstacles being the kiosks sleeping under their tents of canvas. Round and round they go like a man made Merry-Go-Round, never tiring of the same scenery over and over again.
Nobody really knows where they go afterwards, maybe to the nearest Denny’s or maybe they just vanish all together into thin air, but come morning they’ll be back. Their opinions of the state of the world at large echoing in the halls as their feet warm up the floor for those more keen on shopping at the stores rather than passing by them time and time again. Now if you’re excuse me, I have some laps to do.