— ( it's apparent I can't bear it and I swear it / @xdowonx
two steps forward — a right at the second aisle. the cloth of a pale green skirt barely avoid the towering display of cans, eyes that linger at the latest display of instant ramen before ultimately realizing she could probably make a better bowl of ramen with the ingredients she had at home then quickly take three more steps forward to the freezer section.
her eyes scan the array of brightly colored packaging — cheerful cartoons littering the plastic, ridiculous names and flavors calling out to be consumed. but yiseul’s fingers do not brush against those pints, instead, she’s quickly coming to the conclusion that the flavor she had been craving is nowhere to be seen. the writer’s lips drop into a stiff frown, that was not in her cards for today.
she supposes — as she recalls her friends’ teasing at her insistent craving for red bean ice cream, that it is not a flavor that most companies care for. the flavor of tired grannies, stubborn old men, and the pretentious. why not mango? chocolate? or rocky road. regardless, whatever red bean ice cream sells well to the masses is not important to yiseul, what more important is the convenience store’s constant supply seems to run dry.
who else could be buying it? yiseul’s inner lip finds company with her teeth. any reasonable person with a craving so strong would approach the store staff in hopes they had some in the back. but the crawl of nerves climbing her spine is one that is something she rarely ignores. a step back, from this angle she can see the ever-familiar cashier, intimidating piercings and all.
the anxiety in her chest screams but the craving on the tip of her tongue dreams of the sweet taste of her childhood at the beachside.
five steps forward and a mantra repeating in yiseul’s head.
“hello, sorry to bother you,” the mantra escapes her lips, “i have a question..do you still carry red bean ice cream?”