scribblesandruffles
»’Aisle 1, Aisle 2, Aisle 3, Aisle 4.’ Elbows draped over the handle, he pushed the shopping cart down the aisles as he counted them off in his mind. He wasn’t here for much, just some basic necessities like some water, food (which he stored in whoever’s house he was crashing at that night and was for everyone), and the like. He really did hate grocery shopping. Either he bought too much of one thing, or he’d forget to buy the thing that he really actually needed and came there for in the first place.
This time, he had actually made a list--something he should have been doing from the start--so he knew exactly where he was going and what to get. No buying too much of one thing, no getting distracted by something he passes on the way--or someone. There was someone he vaguely recognized in the toy aisle; a bronzed woman, with dark chestnut-colored hair to match.
She dressed perhaps not over-extravagantly, but very professionally nonetheless. To him, she almost seemed kind of silly looking among the innocent assorted playthings and knick-knacks. Regardless, she appeared to be focusing on one item in particular, chocolate-brown eyes scanning over every detail, drinking in all of it’s appearance, so much in fact that she hardly took notice of Samson’s approach.
He then perched his elbows up on the cart handle, cradling his face in his hands, and stared at the object right along with her as if searching for the appeal for a good minute or two, before finally speaking up.❝ You know,❞ he began, squinting. ❝the longer you stare at that, the creepier it starts to look.❞
