The Antidote [A Short Story]

Chapter 1.

The condiments aisle is eerily quiet as she lazily pushes the trolley through. It is not exactly eerie anyway. It is super late and everyone is tucked in by now. Everyone but her.

Mona slowly glances at the trolley and cringes at the near empty state. Was stepping out to shop really a good idea or did just need another excuse to avoid being alone with her thoughts? Well, only time and the receipt will tell.

She picks up a heavy jar of red pepper sauce and wonders how much pasta will be needed to finish this whole thing. The anticipation of tomorrow's lunch already excites her as she places the jar into the trolley basket.

Mona pushes herself out of the aisle and slowly enters the cereal section. Everything smells dry and factory fabricated. There's one particular smell that literally punches her nostrils and memories but she shrugs it off and slowly shakes her head.

No, it cannot be.

"There ya go,"

Well, shit. It most definitely is. Mona cringes at her suddenly sweaty palms and wipes down her grey joggers.

This does not bother her. It shouldn't bother her. If anything, she is supposed to be bloody pissed off anyway. Not nervous.

Goodness, why is she nervous? Mona overthinks with her feet planted in one spot before pushing her trolley to the dairy section.

In panic and worry, she blindly pushes and bumps into someone who lets out an irritated yelp.

"What tha 'ell?!" he screams out before nearly choking on his own words.

Mona widens her eyes as she has walked into the lion's den by herself. He bites on his bottom lip and slowly rubs his elbow with a frown on his face. Nothing much has changed, just a little more facial hair. That smell was eerily familiar for a reason.

A supermarket may have everything but it cannot smell like lavender dancing inside Gucci. It doesn't make sense to everyone else but that's how she can explain the smell.

There he stands, all whole and full of himself, she thinks. Safely covered from head to toe, from pink beanie to a thick grey hoodie and matching joggers. Of course he looks soft as hell with his baby facial hair and sleepy eyes. Mona clears her throat as she studies him.

Harry heavily blinks in shock and pain. A sharp corner suddenly jamming your elbow when you're sleepy will cause a great amount of irritation but he's over that as soon as his eyes land on her.

Not much has changed. Okay, maybe those curls are wilder tonight because he's sure she dashed out of bed after moments of being alone with her thoughts and he recognises that panic in her brown eyes.

All of a sudden, his tongue is heavier than normal and he has forgotten how to use words or what they mean.

Should he be running? He should be running, if he's a smart man.

"I know I'm not drunk," Mona starts.

"You're not," he quips.

"So, it's really you?" she gulps.

"It is." Harry nods.

Getting the answer she wants, Mona attempts to turn the heavy trolley but it fumbles and she nearly trips. Harry fights a smile and tries to assist but she literally flinches away from his assistance, hurting him a little. He understands but it still hurts.

Mona struggles with the trolley and his help, and he stubbornly continues assisting her. In frustration, she lets go of the trolley and folds her arms, ready to storm out. Harry abandons the trolley and hurriedly stands in front of her.