The woman charged through the store without giving anyone a parting glance, she even knocked over a shopkeeper. Her grey hooded overcoat bellowed behind her as she muttered a quick apology. Instinct kicked in as she wove through the stacked rows of clothes and possibly created a quick skid mark in the carper when the woman took an immediate stop.
She was right in front of the men's changing room.
The woman was still… adjusting but knew being of the female persuasion would make venturing forward… awkward. A young man came out and doubled back to keep from crashing into the woman. He didn't look that young but for some reason she at least understood in some bizarre sense that chronologically most people were specks of dust by comparison to her, but she did feel young… well younger in appearance.
"Um, you lost?" the man asked.
"Y-Yes," she really needed to get used to the voice coming out her lips, a deep tone worthy of Yorkshire. "Lost. Where's… my changing room?"
"Oh, um, I think it's over there…" he pointed to the left and the woman noticed the symbol for ladies right above the corridor.
"Right," the woman said more to herself than to the man. "Well, no way around it then… Thanks."
She then turned and barreled through the store at a slower pace. Several customers who noticed her battle charge a moment ago now studied the way she moved about. The hood proved quite effective at hiding her embarrassment. She hesitated for a moment, but recovered quickly and made her way into an unused booth. Inside was a seat on the left, a hook for clothes on the right, and a full-length mirror up ahead. She gave the last item her full focus and began to understand… differences. The obvious ones didn't concern her, she'd studied biology and knew what to look for to confirm she was indeed a woman. Her clothes were carefully chosen from limited options, a grey hooded coat over a dark grey t-shirt with black slacks and boots for trudging through any situation. A few odd jobs at a thrift store had worked wonders, but this attire was only temporary. When her wardrobe became an option again, the woman would find what she needed. Granted that could only happen when she earned the right to it and so many things. The hair stuck out the most, pale honey yellow, it was the wrong color but the shade reminded her of her daughter.
She slouched slightly, the memories were coming back but also the pain with them.
A knock on the door jolted her out of grim thoughts she worked to make her own.
"Excuse me, Miss?" one of the employees, a woman in blue work shirt and tan khakis she remembered in the rush. "Are you actually going to buy something?" The worker knocked harder and the woman wondered if this was typically how customers were treated in clothing stores. She really missed her wardrobe, nobody to argue with but herself.
"No, just wanted to check on something. False alarm."
The woman unlocked the door and the employee nearly crashed into the booth. She caught her quickly and shuffled past all the curious onlookers. Leaving the place had been easier than coming inside and soon the streets of London were all around her. I need to prove myself, she thought, then the name sticks and all comes after that.
That goal would not be found 'shopping', which meant seeking danger would be required. Luckily, name or no name, man or woman, danger was never hard to find.