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Supermarket, fluorescent hum overhead, softening everything that should feel sharper. I take a basket before I need one, something to hold so I don’t look lost. At home everything repeats. Nan in the kitchen, something always baking. Pop at the nook with tea, steam at the same hour. Dad behind a closed door or not there at all. Nothing loud. Nothing wrong. Just set. Here, people move like they belong to where they are going. An old woman slow through the aisle, coat brushing her legs, bread tucked under her arm. No pause. No search. Just forward. I watch her until she disappears. Something in me doesn’t follow. I’m still here. Holding nothing. Further down a young man studies his receipt like it might say more. Milk. Frozen meals. Something sweet. He folds it carefully. Pockets it. I look away before he looks back. I drift. Pick things up. Put them back. My basket stays light. Not empty unfinished. The aisles stretch on full of people who already decided. At checkout, I place something down. A chicken caesar wrap in a plastic box. Already made. Already chosen. Beep. The receipt prints thin proof I was here at all. Outside, I stand still watching the automatic doors open and close like nothing is waiting for me. The world keeps moving anyway cars, footsteps, voices as if I never stood there at all. Then I leave and it doesn’t notice.
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Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 9:57 AM UTC
Receipts I Wasnt Meant to Read
Supermarket, fluorescent hum overhead, softening everything that should feel sharper. I take a basket before I need one, something to hold so I don’t look lost. At home everything repeats. Nan in the kitchen, something always baking. Pop at the nook with tea, steam at the same hour. Dad behind a closed door or not there at all. Nothing loud. Nothing wrong. Just set. Here, people move like they belong to where they are going. An old woman slow through the aisle, coat brushing her legs, bread tucked under her arm. No pause. No search. Just forward. I watch her until she disappears. Something in me doesn’t follow. I’m still here. Holding nothing. Further down a young man studies his receipt like it might say more. Milk. Frozen meals. Something sweet. He folds it carefully. Pockets it. I look away before he looks back. I drift. Pick things up. Put them back. My basket stays light. Not empty unfinished. The aisles stretch on full of people who already decided. At checkout, I place something down. A chicken caesar wrap in a plastic box. Already made. Already chosen. Beep. The receipt prints thin proof I was here at all. Outside, I stand still watching the automatic doors open and close like nothing is waiting for me. The world keeps moving anyway cars, footsteps, voices as if I never stood there at all. Then I leave and it doesn’t notice.
WiltedEverly
Written by
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 9:57 AM UTC
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