If anyone asks you which shopping mall is your favorite, you won't hesitate to answer them IKEA, though it's not exactly a shopping mall.

You have always fond of furniture shopping since you were young. You loved the smell of burnishing wood, the sample decorated area—you also liked to play pretend to be the owner of the house of these furnished rooms. Let's say that you won't go home until your parents have to make you go.

Oh, and of course, you loved IKEA's ice-cream and french fried. You still do.

When you're a little bit older, you dreamed to decorate your own home from scratch one day. You would mark the furniture that caught your eyes and pictured it in your head of how it would look like in your future room.

You feel like going back to the time when your dream were still fresh every time you window-furniture shopping.

Today, you don't know what possessed you, you want to act like a little child again. Without a second thought, you're jumping on the model bed, bouncing up and down with glee.

You see from the corner of your eyes that people are staring, maybe they think you're crazy. But fuck it, you can let yourself loose once in a long while.

'Um, excuse me, I think you have to stop right now before the children follow your act and the apocalypse will occur now.'

You laugh, this excuse this staff said to you is too funny to restrain yourself. But for those puppy eyes begging you to stop this temperament manner of yours, you slower your pace and finally sit straight on the bed.

'Sorry, my mind slipped into the parallel universe for a while.'

And for the second time of the day, you receive the odd stare, but not an offensive type of stare. You think he's cute.

'I know this sounds crazy but I can assure you that my brain can function a hundred-percent.'

'Okay.. um, if you need anything please feel free to ask any staff at the spot. Thank you.'

'Oh wait! Can you help me find something?'

'Sure.'

'Can you help me find your number?'

'Huh?' He puzzled.

'You heard it right, I asked for your number.'

'I.. I'm afraid it's not appropriate, I'm on my work shift right now..'

'Sorry, I didn't think of that. Never mind, I'll give you my number instead. Just pretend it's a customer's request for help or something.'

You reach for an order paper and pencil on the shelf, jolt down your number then put it in his hand (you relieve for a second that he doesn't throw it to the floor, for now).

'I'll just go on with my shopping, thank you for your service,' you wink before walk away.

You really are possessed by some wicked spirit. And you have the lamest pick-up line.

You're happy anyway.