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I grumbled as I bashed my trolley into the store’s automatic doors, completely fed up already with these errands. This shopping trip was going to get the best of me, I just knew it. Getting here was complicated, and even parking was a nightmare. I had left my car in the only free spot I had found, at the other end of the gigantic lot, and had been walking for what seemed like ages.

The shop’s cool and monitored air-conditioning welcomed me with its uncomfortable embrace as soon as I waltzed in awkwardly. I had definitely chosen the wrong cart. The wheels were jammed, the handle was sticky and, for some reason, I couldn’t get it to go straight. I looked around the gloomy supermarket. It managed to be both too bright and too dark; I had to wince at the radiance of the neon signs that burned my retinas, sparkling against the bright tiles, but I couldn’t see past the end of my trolley. I sighed; I hated going shopping at that time of the day. Just now, my head was already buzzing with the hubbub of the other shoppers that were… nowhere to be seen. Huh. I was alone behind my dodgy cart, with not even the shadow of another human being around. Maybe the noise was a part of this heady music that was playing out of unseen, yet certainly efficient, speakers. I shrugged, and took a peek at my crumpled-up and near illegible list: I still needed a few bits and bobs, and then I could get out.

The aisles were like a labyrinth. I couldn’t make any sense of it. I ended up going round in circles for a bit, between the tall stacks of products and crammed shelves. All I could see were old-fashioned biscuits and sweets in strange flavours, piles of toilet paper and rough towels and, for some reason, fish food; of the things on my tiny list, none were to be seen, apparently.

The fresh produce aisle looked good, from afar at least. As I got closer though, it got hotter and hotter, humid and nearly tropical; fruit flies had made themselves at home but, under the warm and yellow glow of the tiny lights, the fruit and veg still looked appetising. The meat counter wasn’t any less strange. The majority of the cuts shone bright red, a pinkish glow twinkling around them. The whole place reeked of bleach. I couldn’t see a single butcher;  maybe the small and shiny packages (the contents of which I didn’t recognise, but I never had a knack for meat) had appeared out of thin air. The frozen section wasn’t any better; my breath fogged up the place, and I could’ve sworn I saw a thin layer of frost on the off-white tiles.

I couldn’t shake off a general feeling of unease tingling on my neck, as if someone was constantly watching me from behind my back. Defeated, I went in yet another aisle, this time for out-of-date phone chargers. I caught myself humming the irritating tune that was still blasting from invisible amplifiers; it was a bit catchy, I had to admit. At random, I picked up one of the boxes. I couldn’t quite make up the words on the back of it, the letters were all jumbled up and nonsensical. Somewhat baffled, I blinked a few times, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining things, but it was all back to normal. I was probably just imagining things.

“How can I help you ?”

The words startled me and I couldn’t contain a jump. Next to me stood a worker, clad in the shop’s colours, small and smiling.

“How can I help you ?”, she repeated.

I must’ve been staring, but she surprised me. Her smile was wide and welcoming, baring teeth white as ivory and sharp as fangs. It was a bit too wide, perhaps. Or maybe it was the way she didn’t blink, at all. It was unsettling, but everything for customer service, I guessed.

“Uh,” I stumbled, “I don’t need anything, thanks, I’m just browsing.”

She didn’t move, gazing straight into me. My throat was parched and my tongue heavy; I couldn’t break away from her smile.

“Actually,” I managed to utter in a raspy voice, “I’m looking for deodorant and I can’t find any on the shelves, do you know where it could be?”

Her glassy stare was fixated on the gap between my eyes. I realised I was sweating, and wiped my palms on my jeans. After a few seconds of silence, she answered in the same robotic tone:

“Sure, no problem! I’ll go check in the back for you, right away!”

She didn’t move, staring at me. With a dry chuckle, I waited a few seconds, then decided to leave this lane. I could feel her eyes on my back, but decided she was just awkward. Maybe it was her first day, who knew! I picked up a random item, a box of cheap chocolate biscuits, and made my way to the tills, slowly.

The employee was still following me. For some reason, she reminded me of the Lotus-eaters, a Greek mythological tribe who lived in apathy and half-consciousness, feeding off lotus leaves and corrupting anyone who they came across. It was probably a stretch; this seemed like the exact opposite. I was trapped in a situation I wanted nothing of, and that Lotus-feeding employee was just watching me struggle through my painfully tedious errands. In addition to this the music, repetitive as ever, was starting to give me a headache. I could feel my pulse thumping against my temples to the rhythm of its energetic beat.

As I walked towards the exit (which was also the entryway, coincidentally), I knew I would have to stop at one of the many small machines to pay my dues; that wasn’t what bothered me. As soon as I made my way towards the shiny cash registers, footsteps started echoing where, a mere moments ago, silence reigned, except for that stupid little tune playing in a loop (I was pretty sure it was in my head at that point, bellowing its mellow and sweet commercial tones on the arch of my skull). I finally got to the tills, just as hordes of people nearly trampled me, appearing out of thin air. Quite taken aback, I scanned the area: there was only one available cashier in the hundreds of tills. And the queue there was obviously huge. I thought about making a run for it, or about abandoning my cart full of one (1) article I didn’t really need but I was already at the back of the line, cursing myself.

The cashier was useless, and seemed to purposefully take ages to scan each and every item. The customers in front of me weren’t any better; it was as if everyone just had to use these shiny new pennies or great savings coupons, counting them precisely, one by one. They all had a mechanical manner to themselves, smiling just a tad too wide or talking too loud behind their empty eyes, as if pre-recorded messages and automatic gestures had been ingrained in their bodies.

It was finally my turn as I added my lonely box of cookies on the conveyor belt. I watched it go through the cashier’s hands, exchanging exasperated pleasantries with him. I just wanted to leave and go home as soon as possible. As I reached for my wallet, a white shroud washed over me. I frantically patted myself down but, to my absolute shock horror, I realised I had forgotten my wallet at home. I started stuttering excuses to the now suspicious cashier, already calling security.

“Over there! They’re over there!”

The shrill voice of the all-smiles customer-service employee I had encountered earlier pierced through my ears. She was guiding a rather massive-looking security guard, threatening as ever, towards me, as I tried yammering on with my excuses. I wasn’t stealing! I had just left my wallet at home! Nothing strange or fishy here! My head was just too far up in the clouds! I was an honest citizen, of course! I never would’ve even thought about snatching anything!

I heard the employee laughing hysterically as I tried to justify myself to the now giant guard (had he always been this tall ?). I wasn’t quite sure of how many arms that bloke had, but it wasn’t two. As he opened his mouth, I surrendered; I knew I was trapped, without any means of escaping. His maws of steel engulfed me, and I blacked out.

 *****

I’ve been wandering aimlessly around the aisles of that strange grocery store ever since, roaming about with a fake smile plastered on my pale face, waiting for the next customer to come. Maybe they’ll be able to pay for me ?