That choked me up a little, and I swallowed it down by politely declining. Her name was Daisy, mine was -----. A pretty name: she liked it. Upon exiting the store, I turned to her and blurted out what had been on my mind the whole time. "You know Daisy, I look like I have quite a bit of money, but I didn't buy these clothes. The truth of it is that I was born to a very poor family on the wrong side of the tracks, and I know exactly where you're coming from right now-- I've been there. Not that it matters, I just had to tell you. If you ever see me around again, don't hesitate to ask me for anything." I could feel the tears of that bitter nostalgia welling up inside me. She accepted the abrupt word vomit, and responded with a selflessness, a certain angelic quality, that I could see when I had first turned around to look at her. "No, I hope when I next see you, I can help YOU!". I turned and left, and the second I rounded the corner I fell to pieces. What I sight I was, a rick, snobby looking gorgeous girl crumbling to the ground in tears. It is crucial in my life that I remember where I've come from, and not get cocky about the journey I've taken.