Supermarket Shenanigans

01

11:45 p.m.

Pulling out one cereal box in each hand, I stared at them blankly, my inability to make simple decisions, haunting me yet again.

Ugh. I should've remembered to add the stupid cereal in the grocery shopping list, two days ago. It wouldn't have led me to be standing in an empty supermarket, half an hour after its closing time, with the last sales girl shooting daggers at me from across the aisle. I tilted my head in her direction and offered an apologetic smile as she continued tapping her finger on her folded arms. Oh boy.

Taking a deep breathe, I placed the Chocos back and walked towards the billing counter with my hand gripping the Fruit Loops confidently. Just as I turned another aisle, the sound of the rain pitter-pattering against the window pane caught my attention and my mind switched to another thought. The urge to use the restroom right this second made my legs turn on their own accord and walk towards the toilet at the rear end of the store. Avoiding meeting the grumpy salesgirl on this little detour of mine, I took a couple more turns until I finally reached the half broken door of the restroom.

The door creaked open as dark shadows of the poorly lit room, enveloped me. Finishing my business as quickly as possible, I rushed outside in desperate hopes of not pissing the already pissed off salesgirl, anymore. But instead of walking back into the thoroughly lit shampoo aisle, it was a pitch dark room that I was stepping into. Stretching my arms, I tried feeling everything in my way and suddenly, there was a thud sound from the floor. Switching on my phone's flash, I picked up the shampoo bottle that fell from the shelf. Phew, at least it was still the shampoo aisle that I was in.

But why was it dark? That could only mean that the salesgirl had turned off the lights and was preparing to shut down the store. A feeling of panic grew inside of me, as I hurriedly retraced the path to the billing counter. Shining the flash on the glass entrance door, I saw the green shutter in the place of the transparent sliding doors. I glanced around, waving my phone around, in hope of finding a window somewhere.

Just as I found one, I spotted my baby blue Mini Cooper, standing completely wet in the soaring rain, and the salesgirl sashaying behind it with a pink umbrella in her hand. Rushing to the window, I banged the glass and started calling out the words 'salesgirl', 'locked', 'help' and 'please' in no specific order, repeatedly. But I doubt my scream barely passed through the glass, over the sound of the heavy pouring.

My words became more hesitant as I saw her clasping her helmet and riding her scooty away in the rain. Inhaling and exhaling deep breathes, I watched as she drove further and further away from the locked store. Just as the reality of the situation started sinking in, the vibration of my phone distracted me. Watching the screen light up under my touch, a frown slipped under my nose as I read the low battery notification.

Unlocking it, I quickly scrambled to my contacts and dialled my best friend's number. Chanting a series of come ons and prayers, I crossed my fingers. But my luck was so rotten that instead of hearing the regular dialer ringtone, all I heard was the automated message for out of network areas. Damn you, cell phone companies.

My teeth started working on my fingernails, as I bit back on all the anxiety that was building inside of me. Just as I was about to devise another plan to get out of this building, heavy, hasty footsteps towards my direction, diverted my attention. I scurried to the closest shelf and hid behind it as the footsteps grew louder and clearer.

Please don't be a burglar.
Please don't be a burglar.
Please don't be a burglar.

Extending my right arm, expecting a potential weapon, I met with only a couple of kitchen sponges. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the sound of the footsteps. Still carefully tucked in the shadow of the (completely useless) sponge aisle, I waited for the owner of the heavy steps to show up.

The roadlights filtering in through the windows, softly accentured the high cheekbones and light stubble of the man's face. His eyebrows knit above his squinted eyes as his face became a little familiar.

He suddenly turned around, walking into my aisle and bumping right into me. A high pitched voice floated in the air as my heartbeat ran a marathon.

"HOLY MOTHER OF FUCKING SHIT-"

And that one phrase, was enough to jog my memory down a few years and remind me of my best friend. I mean, ex-best friend.