I opened the glass door of the retail store and walked inside, eyes immediately drawn to the mannequins donning outfits I could never pull off. Yet I couldn't keep my fingers from running over the fabrics displayed on racks that were laid out, row after row around me. Months of penny pinching and shopping-deprivation made me like a hungry child in a bakery. My arms were full of clothes in mere moments. A sales clerk politely offered her assistance and asked my name. "Elizabeth," I told her. "I'm Willie," She replied with a slight southern accent, cheerfully as if we were about to become best friends. She was an older black woman who I noticed was just as attentive to all the customers in her section. Animated and friendly, Willie drew my complete attention as she continued, "Elizabeth, I can remember that. That's my sister's middle name. Her first name is Mary," she explained. Before I could help it, I told her that my first name was actu