BY: Sarcastic Sam
The mall arrived quieter this time.
No Christmas music.
No garland.
No fake snow hiding the scuffed tiles. It sat down and sighed.
“Okay, Doc. Let’s be honest. It’s late January. The holidays were great. Really great. Packed weekends. Families everywhere. Lights made me look younger. People smiled like I didn’t have lawyers.”
“And now?” the therapist asked.
“Now it’s January,” the mall said flatly. “The decorations are gone. Credit card bills showed up. Foot traffic thinned out. December hugged me. January barely nodded.”
A woman walked by with one small shopping bag.
“It was crazy here before Christmas,” she said. “Now it’s calmer.” “Calm is one word,” the mall muttered. “Reality is another.” “What’s sitting with you most right now?” the therapist asked.
“February,” the mall replied. “February 4th. Public auction. Manhattan courthouse. Big number in bold print. Everybody suddenly has opinions.”
The mall shook its head.
“Headlines make it sound like I’m being dragged out to the curb. Nobody prints ‘Still Open.’ Nobody prints ‘People Still Come.’”
A dad passed the AMC entrance. “Still beats staying home,” he said.
“Thank you,” the mall said quietly.
“Who’s actually in charge right now?” the therapist asked.
“Technically? The debt people,” the mall said. “Black Diamond owns the loan. Wilmington Trust pushed the foreclosure. There’s a receiver running my day-to-day — lights, leases, escalators, elevators.”
“And since the auction date dropped,” the mall continued, “everyone became a real estate expert overnight.”
“Commercial brokers. Distressed-asset guys. Firms with three names and a capital letter in the middle. Everyone talking ‘vision.’”
A man in a sharp coat whispered into his phone, “Yeah, mixed-use potential… repositioning…”
“That guy didn’t even buy socks,” the mall said.
“And the politics?” the therapist asked.
“Oh, politics showed up right on time,” the mall replied.
“Town people. County people. Everyone protecting the tax base. Everyone careful. Everyone saying things without actually saying anything.”
A shopper muttered, “Election-year vibes.” “Exactly,” the mall said.
“How do you feel about the auction being in Manhattan?” the therapist asked.
The mall groaned.
“Doc, I never liked the city. I’m a Rockland mall. Wide parking lots. Space. And now my future gets decided in a Manhattan courthouse by people who’ve never tried to park here on a Saturday.”
“They don’t know my food court rhythms,” the mall added.
“They don’t know which escalators behave. They definitely don’t know the Ferris wheel.” “The Ferris wheel still bothers you?”
“It does,” the mall said. “Everyone thinks it’s charming. It’s heavy. It creaks. It reminds me I’m carrying more than I should.”
“How are you handling the press?” “Tabloids love confusion,” the mall said.
“Foreclosure! Auction! Panic! No context. Even respectable papers fall into it.”
“Any coverage you trust?”
“Yes,” the mall said. “Those two guys from Rockland Post. They walk my floors. They explain specifics. They tell the truth.
I still can’t pronounce their names — look like hockey jerseys — but I trust them.” “Who stayed?”
“Barnes & Noble stayed. Macy’s stayed. AMC stayed. Dave & Buster’s keeps my heart rate up.
I lost some friends — JCPenney, Lord & Taylor — but I’m not abandoned.” “And Amazon?”
“Jeff Bezos ships boxes,” the mall said. “I deal with seasons.”
“So where does that leave you?”
“Late January. Decorations gone. February auction ahead. Realtors circling. Politicians positioning. Headlines speculating.”
The mall straightened up.
“But I’m still here,” it said. “Still open. Still useful.”
The mall slid a small envelope across the desk.
“No Ferris wheel,” it said quickly. “Just coffee and bookstore credit.”
“Whatever happens in February,” the mall said, “I’m still open.”
If you want to read about session 1 go to Rocklandpost.com Comedy Corner