Grocery Hell
Seraph: I hate grocery shopping. It’s humiliating to be an eternal being comparing toilet paper brands. Eliel: But… you need to eat. It's physiological. Humans do it all the time. I thought you liked human life? Seraph: I do. (deep breath) But shopping? It’s exhausting. I waste long minutes of my existence waiting in line just to buy something I’ll probably hate because I picked it up thinking it would be amazing. Eliel: But you need things. And I don’t see a problem in trying something and not liking it. It even sounds kind of… fun. Seraph: You’ve been here for such a short time and capitalism already has its tentacles wrapped around you? (Eliel stares at him, confused. He’s not sure if that was a warning or just another weird metaphor.) (They pass the breakfast aisle. Eliel picks up a cereal box with a smiling cartoon polar bear on the front.) Eliel: This one has a picture. It feels familiar, might be good. Seraph: That’s got more sugar than the poor polar bear’s got ice left to survive on. Eliel: It says here it “tastes like childhood.” (genuinely curious) Did you ever have one? Seraph: I think so. It started when I fell, ended when I had to learn to make instant noodles. Eliel: That’s not childhood. That’s survival. (They turn the corner. Eliel quietly places the cereal in the cart. Seraph sees it, pretends not to. He’s bad at pretending.) Seraph: If this ends with me eating sugary cereal at 3 a.m. with you… I’m blaming you. Eliel: Blame accepted. (he smiles, for the first time since they walked in)