"This was on the fifty percent off rack," the customer huffed with a flump of cloth to counter.

Lying, breathed a tiny voice at the back of my head, and my hands stilled momentarily before going on with the business of removing security tags and folding.

Where the hell have you been, little voice that tells me when people are lying to me? I asked of myself silently as my out-loud voice let the customer know that unfortunately, these things had a habit of happening, people picked things up and put them down, nothing to be done for it, I would be unable to give her the fifty-percent discount she was demanding, did she still want the shirt?

Without even a hint of shame: Busy.

Sure you were, little voice that tells me when people are lying to me. Sure you were.

...Well, welcome back, in any case.

Thanks.

((In conclusion, some days I really hate how my brain works.))