It’s only when he walks around inside that his mood changes. With nothing left in his pocket, he feels an ominous burden, an oppressive sense of waste and fear. The landscape is of judgment; he begins to suspect everyone knows. He’s a fraud. It’s not only clothes, but bearing. He’s never had this feeling before, never cared what anyone says of him. Now he clams up. He feels the shop assistants watching him, singling him out. They know he’s merely trying to pass for the other side. So he doesn’t dare go inside certain shops, even to browse. To open his mouth would be to give the game away.
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