It hits you when you’re not looking.
By the cantaloupes, maybe.
Or in the cereal aisle.
Life’s absurd, isn’t it?

A stranger’s kid is crying,
and the old man next to you
is staring at the ingredients on the soup can
like it holds the secrets of the universe.

You’ve been there too—
in the waiting room of life,
looking for meaning
between aisle four and five.

You buy the bread, the milk, the eggs.
None of it will last,
but you tell yourself it will.

And on the way home,
the sun will break through the clouds
just for a second—
and for once,
it’ll feel like enough.