The chilled wind whistles a song of melancholy, singing to me. Oh, what a poet you are, I think to myself, mockingly. I hear a slam as the main doors to my apartment close. If they open again, what if a flower comes in? Or, if we are talking about the other flower, blows in? With a small chuckle, I snap back to what's going on, suddenly alert. "Whos there?'' I croak loudly too, surprise surprise, nothing. What did you expect, people? I feel bad for you, dude. Lazily trotting into the Occidtowne Superstore, I glance over to a knocked over, mangled trash can. Flowers. Gotta be alert, I don't think it was like that last time. And, with that, I make my grand entrance into the boring shop. Walking around, I decide to deter the fresh produce aisle. After all, what's the worst thing that could happen? Nothing. That's what. Unless you count rotting celery as a win. Grazing through the isles, scanning and seeking "okay" food, I picked up random bean cans, pasta cans, garbage cans, to find what I needed. Of course, not the garbage cans for food, but extra supplies. The long, dreary, neverending supermarket spreads before me like butter on bread.
"Why can't we have them all?" I pout to my mum, wanting more. "We only need one bottle of honey, Hun," she answered sweetly. "B-but, I want more.." Still trying to convince her, I gave her the most pleading look a 5 year old could give me. "Two. We can get two more, Xavier." She said, stern but loving. Reaching with my little baby hands, I grabbed them both, dropping them on the ground. "What're you doing that for?" she asked in curiosity, knowing the answer either way. "Too tall.." I explained, wanting her to get them into the cart for me. "Fine then, but when you grow up i can't put honey in your cart for you," She teased amusingly. "Oh. Ok. Can I have a honey wrap once we get home?" Little me asked, hoping for a yes. 'Of course, honey," she agreed "as long as you always stay this sweet." she finished with an affectionate smile. "I'm sweet as honey!" I repeated, noticing her message. "I know you are. Just promise me you'll always be."
Too bad I would've let her down. Now I'm just as 'sweet as a lollipop'. Oh, well. At least I know where I'm going to go next. Ready to be done, I rush over to aisle 3, condiments. Now where would it be- spotting the honey a quarter way down, I grab it and tuck it inside of my backpack, without thought. "It's not stealing when nobody cares," I utter quietly to myself, ready to go around the till. Dust covers the black surface that was the conveyor belt, barely making it visible. Listen, I may be 15, but I still can have fun. Big surprise. Basically skipping the other side of the small stand, I pull out the food from my backpack and fool around. "Beep, boop, bap," I mimic the sounds of scanning ironically out loud. "Would you like a receipt, sir?" I ask the air. Speeding to the other side, I reply, "No, thank you." and finish 'scanning', a big grin covering my face. Too bad it's only you, my brain whispers, laughing in my face. "No, not too bad. I hate social interaction." I say back to myself, defending my argument. But I am still talking to myself so... They're right- I mean, I'm right. It's just me. There's not some 'person' on the opposite side of this till. Only pretend. Then again, I haven't talked to anyone for the last 2 years, so I think I have a right to start imagining things. I think.
(again, this is not the final :0)
