The bustling streets of Downtown teemed with life as Linda navigated her way through the crowd, her elegant strides contrasting with the hurried pace around her.

Her phone buzzed inside her handbag, interrupting her little moment. She reached in, retrieving the device with a practiced ease. As she pressed it to her ear, the lively voices of her children filled the air, their words tumbling over each other in their excitement.

“Mommy, I want a pink dress with Barbie prints!” exclaimed her daughter.

Linda’s lips curled into a smile, her heart swelling with affection. “Alright, my little dumpling. Pink dress it is.”

Her son’s voice, eager and bright, chimed in next. “Mommy, I want a Captain America tee!”

“Got it, a superhero tee for my brave little man,” Linda replied, laughing. “Now, you two be good for Nanny Rosie, okay?”

She ended the call with a chuckle. A thoughtful expression crossed her face as she considered her children’s requests. Her gaze lifted, settling on the elegant facade of the Mayflower Fashion Emporium just ahead. The timing was perfect.

Linda quickened her pace, her mind already picturing the delighted expressions on her children’s faces when they saw their new clothes. There was a boutique at that shopping mall she had been dying to try out.

As she approached, the store’s polished windows and sophisticated ambiance beckoned. Linda smiled, excited at her impromptu shopping spree. She needed clothes for her children and something special for herself for an important event later that night.

A sudden, firm voice halted Linda’s intentions. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” came the baritone of the store’s security guard, a man of imposing stature and steely eyes with a name tag that read “Martin.” He stood blocking her path, frowning as if she were trespassing into his home.

Linda paused, her brows knitting in confusion. “Yes, can I help you?” she asked, remaining polite.

Martin’s gaze lingered on her, unyielding. “I need to hold your bag, Ma’am. It’s store policy for security reasons.”

Her eyes widened slightly. She glanced around, noting other shoppers entering unhindered with their bags in tow. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why only my bag?” she questioned uneasily.

The security guard responded curtly, his expression hardening. “We’ve had issues with shoplifting. I’m just following orders, Ma’am. Please hand over your bag, or you’ll need to leave.”

Linda’s heart picked a beat as she began to catch his drift. Despite the unfairness of the situation, she hesitated to escalate things. With a resigned sigh, she handed over her handbag, her eyes locking with Martin’s in silent protest.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Martin said, his tone devoid of warmth. He stepped aside, but his eyes followed her.

As Linda browsed through the aisles, the feeling of being watched clung to her. Turning, she found Martin trailing her, his presence intrusive and unsettling. Every garment she touched, every turn she took, he was there, acting as a silent, looming shadow.

Frustration bubbled within her. She selected a dress, hoping to escape into the privacy of the changing room. She got inside and was about to shut the curtains when Martin’s voice halted her steps.

“Ma’am, you need to keep the curtains open,” he stated.

Linda turned to face him, her jaw dropping. “Excuse me? Why would I do that?”

Martin shrugged. “Store policy, Ma’am. We need to ensure no items are concealed.”

At last, she couldn’t deny the truth. This wasn’t just about the bag or the surveillance. It was about her, her identity… and most importantly, her skin color. She felt a bitter taste in her mouth at the realization.

“This is ridiculous. I want to speak to your manager now,” Linda demanded. Her voice was slightly shaky, but she cleared her throat to disguise it.

Martin, unphased, reached for his walkie-talkie. “Miss Jones, we have a situation in the changing rooms,” he spoke into the device.

Within moments, a woman in a red polka dot dress and white blazer approached – Miss Jones, the general manager. She eyed the scene curiously. “What seems to be the problem here?”

Linda didn’t mince words. “I’m being treated differently in your store. Your guard won’t let me change in privacy. This is unacceptable and feels discriminatory.”

Miss Jones’ eyes narrowed as she assessed Linda, “Our policies are for everyone’s safety. If Martin says you can’t close the curtain, then you can’t.”

Linda pursed her lips and continued, “This is not just about the curtain. It’s about how I’m being singled out. I want to know why, or I will call the police.”

Miss Jones smirked delicately. “No need for that.”

Before Linda could further argue her case, the boutique’s door swung open, and a uniformed police officer stepped in, chewing gum nonchalantly. Officer Daniels, his badge read, walked over with an air of authority.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, eyeing Linda and then turning to Miss Jones.

Miss Jones quickly briefed him, “This woman is causing a scene. We suspect she might be trying to shoplift.”

Linda interjected, outraged, “Excuse me? That’s not true! I’ve done nothing wrong. They won’t let me change in private.”

Officer Daniels looked Linda up and down, his gaze lingering a moment too long. “What little secret are you hiding under your shirt? Take it off. Let me see!” he said with a leering grin.

She recoiled, her face flushing. “How dare you? I demand respect and privacy. This is harassment!”

“You’ve got something to hide, don’t you? I need to see for myself. Now get in there and take off your clothes,” Officer Daniels continued with a condescending tone that sent shivers down Linda’s spine.

She felt humiliated. “This is against my rights! You can’t force me to undress myself!”

Ignoring her protests, Officer Daniels turned to Martin. “Did you check her bag?”

Martin handed Linda’s bag to the officer, who rifled through it with a sense of entitlement. Linda watched, helpless and seething, as he pulled out a new white padded bra, holding it up triumphantly.

“Look what we have here,” Officer Daniels announced, waving the bra for all to see. “Seems like Miss Jones’ suspicions were right.”

“I didn’t put that in my bag! They must’ve planted it!”

Miss Jones chimed in, “We don’t need any more proof, Officer Daniels. She’s a thief. Make her undress to see if she has stolen more clothes!”

Linda felt the room closing in on her as the cop got closer, corraling her into the changing room. “I’m afraid, Miss Jones, that’ll you’ll have to take it from here. The law doesn’t allow me to touch her in that way.”

“Come on! Take off your shirt and pants!” Miss Jones demanded, pushing Linda roughly inside and pulling on her clothes.

“You can’t do this! You can’t do this!” Linda pleaded, but Miss Jones was rough and determined.

She smiled once Linda was halfway undressed and left, purposefully leaving the curtain open. “She didn’t take anything else, but that bra is worth over $800, so it’s still a serious theft.”

Linda’s eyes were brimming with frustrated tears as she rushed to dress herself before Officer Daniels came over, reaching for his handcuffs. He buckled her quickly.

“Please,” Linda implored, “This is a misunderstanding. You can’t do this.”

Officer Daniels sneered, “You’re coming with me, lady. Let’s see if you can explain this away at the station.”

At that moment, Linda’s phone, still in her purse, began to ring insistently. “I need to answer that,” she said urgently. “Please. It might be my children.”

Officer Daniels hesitated, but sensing an opportunity to assert his control further, he retrieved her phone and answered the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice resonated from the phone. “Good evening. This is Miss Holmes from the mayor’s office. Am I speaking with Miss Davidson?”

The room fell silent. Officer Daniels’ confident demeanor faltered, a frown replacing his smug grin.

“Yes, speaking,” Linda replied.

Miss Holmes continued, “Are you alright, Miss Davidson? You sound far away. I just want to confirm your attendance. The mayor expects you at tonight’s event.”

Linda licked her lips and made a split-second decision. “I am being detained unlawfully at the Mayflower Fashion Emporium by a police officer. He’s accusing me of theft and has handcuffed me. So, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Officer Daniels, while Miss Jones and Martin exchanged panicked glances.

“Unlawful detention? I’m transferring you to Sheriff Carson,” Miss Holmes said, concerned.

A new voice, firm and authoritative, came on the line a few seconds later. “Miss Davidson, this is Sheriff Carson. What’s happening there?”

Linda recounted the events, and her voice grew stronger as she saw the panicked faces of the cop, security guard, and store manager. “They accused me of theft, forced me to undress publicly, and now I’m handcuffed. All because I’m a woman of color.” She also rattled off the names of everyone involved.

Officer Daniels looked like he wanted to protest, but Sheriff Carson responded immediately and sternly. “Officer Daniels, release her now! Miss Davidson is the new District Attorney. You’ve made a grave mistake. I’m sending several patrol units over there now.”

The cop fumbled with the handcuffs, releasing her. Apologies escaped his mouth, but Linda stood tall, her chin high.

“I’ll be filing a formal complaint,” Linda declared. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about every person who’s been unjustly treated because of their race in this store.”

As Linda collected her belongings, Miss Jones attempted a feeble apology, too, offering Linda free clothes as compensation. But she declined, scoffing at the manager’s audacity.

“No, thank you. I don’t need free clothes from racists. I’ll take my bag, please,” Linda said firmly, reaching her hand to Martin, whose entire body language resembled a trembling dog with its tail between its legs.

Then, she walked out of the boutique with her head held high, intent on speaking with the mayor about some changes to the laws on racial discrimination and abuse of power in her district.

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