I copied her to a USB drive and slid her into my pocket.
We arrived to the neon lights and glossy floors and aisles of nonsense just in time for an upbeat version of jingle bells.
Not so jingle this year, I thought to her, squeezing the plastic drive.
I pushed her in and she appeared, still warm, hair still wet, still wrapped in blankets.
I stood up to cover the screen, surprised by my own instincts, to protect her from indifferent eyes.
How about 200x200? Would that be okay?
Here is your picture, he says, handing her back to me.