Grocery stores mean a lot to Joey and I. They are where our food comes from and our shampoo and conditioner come from. They are the best people watching spots; Wal-Mart even has benches! They are where we scope for hot guys because it is friendlier than a bar. Sorry, Jo, I had to tell them.
But when I step into the grocery store by myself on a dark wintery night at 5:30 pm, I’m not feeling too good. The florescent lights are just a little too bright and the woman scanning the barcodes of a customer’s cans is just a little too drugged out for my taste.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve been food shopping with my mother since I was just a teeny baby and I wasn’t just out of my comfort zone. It was an honest-to-goodness weird creep-o-meter alert.
Spoiler: NOTHING HAPPENED!
I almost wish there was something that did happen. Even if it was a little disturbance. Then I could explain why the freak my flight or fight mechanism was going off. But not a darn thing happened.
Maybe I’m just a bit jumpy from that Stephan King book I’m reading.