My roommate and I were in our twenties, which meant shopping after work was practically a recreational activity. On this particular day, we were making a little extra coin and could afford to shop at Target.

Yes. Target.

Typically, you could catch us hood-adjacent at the 99-cent store, but apparently we’d recently come into money because that night we were shopping bougie and filling our cart with all the necessities we really did not need.

We’d just left the makeup aisle and were heading toward checkout.

It wasn’t even late. It was around dinnertime for people who aren’t seniors or don’t have small children, so like 7 p.m.

The store was busy.

People were coming in.

People were checking out.

I was pushing the cart.

My roommate was walking beside me.

Everything was completely normal.

Until, out of absolutely nowhere, a six-foot-plus, middle-aged, bald white man grabbed me by the shoulders.

And picked me up.

Not metaphorically.

Not gently guiding me out of his way.

This full-grown ass man put his hands on my body and physically relocated me from the main walkway into one of the side aisles!

My cart was left sitting there in the middle of Target like its owner had experienced an extraterrestrial alien kidnapping.

Now you’re probably thinking:

What in the actual fuck?

Did you scream?

Kick him?

Whoop his ass?

Did your roommate mace him?

I’d love to tell you yes.

I’d love to tell you my survival instincts immediately kicked in and I transformed into the Black female lead in an action movie.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

My ass became a deer in headlights.

I just…froze.

Because who the fuck gets kidnapped inside a Target like that?

That’s not real life.

My roommate wasn’t doing much better. She was standing there looking just as confused as I was because she couldn’t figure out whether I knew this man, whether she needed to call security, or whether we’d somehow wandered into an episode of Punk’d.

Meanwhile, I’m looking up at this man, trying to figure out what category of emergency this even was.

Then he looked at me and said:

“You were in my way.”

Excuse me?

I had what could only be described as the right of way in Target.

“Um…what are you talking about? I was walking to the checkout. You grabbed me and dragged me over here.”

“Well, I was walking and you were in my way.”

Okay. Again what the fuck.

But then he continued.

“Now that you’re over here…can I holla at you?”

Record scratch.

I’m sorry.

WHAT?

“You manhandled me over here…to holla?! You could’ve just been a normal person and walked up to me.”

“You would’ve talked to me if I did that?”

“No.”

At least I was honest.

“But now I’m trying to figure out if I need to call the police on you.”

“Well, this was my best shot. Can I at least get your number?”

[ END OF EXCERPT ]

Want to know what happened next?

The full story is in the upcoming book. Stay tuned!