𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 [𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢]

10-Stanley

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THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

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Stanley had been spaced out for quite some time, simply staring at a wall. The edge of the counter pressed against his palms painfully as he leaned against it. Stanley was only broken out of his trance by a large growl from his stomach, accompanied by a sharp ache.

The clock read 8:59.

Hunger.

He'd forgotten about that. It was an awful feeling.

But he had no food.

...He did have a lot of cash though.

He sighed, really hoping the nearby (Nearby? He didn't know anything outside that white apartment door?) store had self-check-out.

Walking to his bedroom, he put on the pair of shoes that lay set out next to his bed. Slipping on the black faux (How did he know it was fake leather?) dress shoes, they felt uncomfortable but familiar.

He longed for that familiarity. Perhaps that's why he remained in the ruffled and wrinkled button-up shirt he woke up in.

Walking back to the door, he grabbed his wallet and keys off the counter on the way with practiced ease.

He placed a hand on the metal doorknob. He had no idea what lay outside. He wished he had The Narrator there to help guide him through it.

He opened the door to the hallway, which had old tattered grey carpeting, boring beige walls, and that standard 'hotel' scent. Across the way, there was a door that had the number '415'. To the left, the hallway ended, and there was a window with broken blinds on the wall. To the right, more doors and an elevator at the end of the hall.

Swallowing a moderate amount of fear, he headed towards the elevator. He pressed the yellow down arrow button (It reminded him of The Adventure Line™, though he never saw if the line had an arrow or not.) and waited for the lift to arrive at whichever floor he was on. Four maybe? Is that a viable way to number apartments? Yes, maybe the hundreds were the floor numbers.

The elevator doors opened soon thereafter. Stanley stepped into the cold metal box, pressed the button for floor one, and watched the sliding doors close in front of him.

Elevator music began to play.

But where was-

Oh. Right. It's gone.

Stanley shook the building tears away from the back of his eyes. He had work to do.

He felt the elevator jolt to a stop on the bottom floor of the building. The doors slid open, revealing a drab and boring lobby. There was a reception desk with a woman sitting behind a computer.

She looked up at Stanley with an amount of shock, but didn't say anything to him. She picked up the phone on the desk and dialed a number, but Stanley didn't stick around to listen in on the conversation, opting to walk through the front door of the building.

He turned to the right, walking in the direction that he knew the store was.

How?

That's a good question.

The walk had been oddly quiet without the voice in his head or the man by his side.

He hated it.

The only thing keeping him from stopping in his tracks was the hungry pain in his gut and the copious amount of people walking by who would likely trample him if he did.

He walked the familiar path; right, left, left, right, and then a long stretch without any turns. He knew he'd arrived by the large sign that simply read "STORE". He chucked at the blatant labeling.

Walking through the automatic doors and feeling the rush of cool air, he observed the surroundings. It was a standard-size grocery store, with the produce directly left of the entrance and the processed food in the aisles to the right.

Picking up a basket, he headed to the right. He wasn't sure what foods he liked, and he didn't remember if he could cook, so getting some quick and cheap food would be a good start to get back into the realm of, well, eating.

The first aisle he went to was filled with Halloween decorations and candy for said holiday. Although something told Stanley he quite enjoyed Kit-Kats, whatever they are, he knew he probably needed to stray toward the healthier options.

What foods did he like?

He walked through the cereal aisle, perusing the shelves of sugary breakfast foods. Did he like any of these? Was he more interested in hot cereals, like oatmeal?

He stood by the shelf, debating between two boxes he held in his hands. He longed for that nagging voice in his head. It was odd; the one he'd despised and blamed for all of this was now gone and Stanley missed it.

And he missed it a lot.

Eventually, he settled on Honey Nut Cheerios, a simple and basic cereal that was hard to dislike. A safe option (it also happened to be the box in his left hand, but that didn't have anything to do with it, he promises.).

Okay, what other meals are there?

Lunch. He's pretty sure he still works at the office building he'd spent millions of years in, so he'd have to pick up things that were easy to take to work. He thinks he likes a simple ham and cheese sandwich on whole wheat bread; so he picked up the ingredients for that. He wasn't sure about mayo; the sandwich would be too dry without it but some people really hate it and Stanley didn't know if he was one of those people.

He'll play it safe and not get mayonnaise.

And then dinner, right? It feels like the most important meal of the day, a way to decompress after work and enjoy some time. A safe option for that, he thinks, is to pick up some instant mashed potatoes and canned corn.

While what he picked up wasn't the most sustainable diet, Stanley wasn't sure he'd tested the waters of what he enjoys enough to pick out a sustainable yet delectable diet.

Taking his small basket of items to the front of the store, he headed left to the self-checkout lanes. Thankfully, there were hardly any other people at the store at the moment, leaving Stanley to go directly to one of the self-checkouts and pay for his food, before taking the walk home to put it all away.

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THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

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