I ventured into a mall today to return a blouse and get some makeup, both totally allowed ventures on my year of no shopping, But it was pretty spooky — all those sunglasses making eyes at me, mannequins leaning toward me, salespeople smiling desperately, sales racks of shoes in my periphery. Macy’s felt creepy, Bloomingdale’s empty and longing. My return didn’t work — wrong gift receipt — and the makeup wasn’t easily found, so I stopped by the food court on the way out. I looked at all the prices at everything and realized all must be marked up at least 50 percent. Hawkers plied me with bits of their processed sweet fried chicken. Overdressed people in too tight clothes sat at tables eating. I paid cash for a cup of tortilla soup, and then left as soon as I could. Jeez, how depressing.