I had finally decided which pair of jeans I was going buy, after talking it through with my sister in Wellington, when all of a sudden the ground started shaking, which was a common occurence for Christchurch then. I did the wee squat brace to wait and see how big it was going to be, expecting only a few second delay before I could go to the counter and buy my clothes, then everyone started running out the store. I waited, deciding it would be safer inside, only to be attacked by mannequins and clothing coming down around me, I quickly ran after the other customers out the doors, to be serenaded by the sound of sirens and breaking glass as the front of the Hannah’s shoe shop fell away beside me. I was alone in the cashel street mall surrounded by chaos. A girl approached me asking if I was okay, as I just stood and stared around me. My reply of “yes” and bursting into tears did not fool her as I was given a hug and marched to the group of Glassons employees that were figuring out their next move, “this is Jayne, and she’s coming with us” was announced to the group, and just like that I was marched through the liquefaction filling the streets out toward linwood, where we got into someone’s car boot to be systematically dropped around town.