our mothers used to sing along, who'd blame them

[valdemar]

WOW WE'RE IN A SUPERMARKET you are in a supermarket. you need more cereal, or maybe you want a snack, or maybe you are racing around on a cart, or a cart just hit your car in the parking lot and you're going to kill that asshole, or your bag just broke and there are broken eggs everywhere oh my gosh who designed these bags was it communists??????? i bet it was!

Comments

[fles]

Nosy people in supermarkets. ( she says, raising her eyebrows in a yeah, wow kind of expression. in a strange way, she relaxes. she used to be good at this. maybe she still can be. )

[importexport]

S'not nosy. [A touch defensively. He'll shift a bit, though, standing taller to look at her.]

You said something first. [He almost wants to ask if she's lonely or something but even for him that's crossing a bold line.] Need some good bread?

[fles]

You don't see me, asking if anything is wrong with you. ( she replies, grabbing a loaf of bread at random and putting it in her otherwise-empty basket. her grab is clumsy. she's tense, her anxiety is going up. she shouldn't press on, but she does, stubbornly. her stubbornness is what kept her alive there. and now… she can do this. this is nothing. she can be normal and cope. easily! ) So? Is there anything wrong with you?

[importexport]

[Looking at her, looking at the bread, judging the bread, and then looking back at her. Right. His shopping trips are never so eventful.]

I'm not looking like you are, either. [Tense. Freaked out or something. It's not even that she's high at least he'd recognize the signs of that, this is just confusing!!] Nothing's wrong with me, but-- [Just, gesturing with a free arm at her basket.] You could probably get more time out'f a different loaf.

[He put that one back...]