COMPULSIVE BUYING

It was early on a Saturday morning when Monica rose from bed and instinctively reached for a glass on her dresser, only to find it empty. As she walked to the window and drew the curtains, she noticed her neighbour and close friend, Mary, hanging laundry in the yard, a quiet, ordinary act of routine. Without a second thought, Monica turned away and hurried to the shower, as if suddenly reminded of an urgent appointment. Soon after, she grabbed her handbag, a quick sandwich, and left for town. What followed was an all-too-familiar spiral. From Queens Park to Edgars, Monica shopped without restraint, buying on impulse, guided more by emotion than necessity. Each store visit added more weight to her trolley: clothing, chocolates, makeup, shoes. In Woolworths, she spotted Mary from a distance and instinctively ducked behind the shoe shelves to avoid being seen. By now, Monica was avoiding anyone who might question her choices. When her phone rang, it was John, an old friend. Nervously, she answered: “John, I’m still in bed. I’ll call you later.” But the time on her watch told a different story. It was already past 3 p.m. Hours later, at home, Monica entered her walk-in closet. It was overflowing. Some items were still in their packaging, untouched since the day they were purchased. She lay down on her bed, receipt in hand, staring at it with quiet regre