My high school love story

Chapter 1

                        - Going Shopping -

Its a Saturday morning on a chilly winters day. My eyes fluttered gently into consciousness. the simple task of lifting my arm felt like lifting a weight. The light of the sun shone through my window into my squinting eyes. It burned. I reached for my phone that lay on my bedside table. The time read. 10:24am. I hauled myself out of bed removing my shield of warmth and letting the cool air kiss my skin. I planted my heavy feet on the ground and stood up. My bedroom floor became a sea of vertigo. A heated brigade of blood rushed to my head as I let out a deep exhale to alleviate my lightheaded feeling. Suddenly a voice cascaded through the hallway.

"Kale, come on".

It was mum. She always makes me go weekend shopping to help her get the groceries. I hear the sound of metal jangling like a death chime. Shes already getting in the car. I rush to get ready. I just threw on a warm jumper and some ugg boots and flew out the door to the car. The air burned as my warm body was exposed to its unforgiving temperature. My lips already chapped and slow streams of lava snot filling my nose. The engine of the car was already heating up for the short trip. The car gently humming and vibrating as I approach to open the door. The handle was freezing. I slid into the car and onto the passenger seat. My bed hair still untamed after a night of tossing and turning.

We arrived at Aldi first, nothing interesting except for the old lady whose tit slipped out when she bent down for a bag of potatoes.

We then went to Woolies next. As I walked up to the glass doors that held me from entering the hive of food. I saw that green logo. The fresh food people. I took a deep breath and stepped into the sensor and the doors unsealed and gently slid open as if I were they're king. Mum made me get two baskets as we were only getting a few things.

I wandered through the maze of aisles the clinical polished floors guiding me to yogurt section that mum sent me to get. My eyes landed on, Creamy yogurt extra thick, my hand clasped around its cylindrical plastic vessel. It was cold. I carefully placed it into my basket and headed back to mum. We continued our shop. A seemingly endless journey. An eternity of searching for sustenance. Finally, we found ourselves at the self service checkout. It was packed. People squabble to get out and avoid spending anymore wasted time in Woolworths. But not me. I relished every fleeting moment as a blessing. And then it happened.

"Anyone using a card there's one here!" preached the customer service personnel.

We gracefully walked over, in no rush, we unloaded our sustenances into the bagging area. Scanning each item, listening to the chimes of beeps from other people also falling into the same common task in society of grocery shopping. Why do we as a humanitarian society fall into these lines of normality. Why do we have a normal life filled with bland daily and weekly chores yet we call it living and freedom. Its rather boring when you think about it. Nevertheless we are the peak of filtration. No other species on our earth or possibly the universe has come as far as us as far as we know.

We scanned our items and paid. Until we realised, we were missing an extra bag. We couldn't contain and comfortably transport our sustenance.

"grab one of those green bags for me Kale."

I reached for the green 'bag for good' woolies bag. Its texture was soft but slightly rough. The material snagged on my fingertips as I manhandled its body. Its body of perfection. I was in awe. I felt myself begin to blush in its presence. I stared into its deep green sea of emptiness. I wonder what I could fill it with. I wanted to fill it wi-

"Kale! could you hand me the bag already? I've got things to do today!" Mum commanded.

"oh yeah, sorry!" I awkwardly shoved it into her hands.

She filled the thing of beauty with more groceries. I was immensely jealous. My eyes has caught interest in her shape. Her texture. Her smell. Im sorry Jesus.

I carefully carried her on our journey back to the car. Her straps were strong reinforced with the finest Chinese sweatshop child stitching. It was hard to walk normally in her presence. I felt like I had to display a five star performance for the simplest of tasks. I had to impress.