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Brilliant deduction, Carver. You are in a grocery store.
I’d call my conscience a smart ass, except that would feel as if I’m complimenting myself. Something I only do when it comes to my cooking and baking accomplishments. Which I balance out by laughing at my failures in the same areas.
The latter doesn’t happen as often as it did when I first started my YouTube channel, Rae of Hope, but does still occur here and there. My mom having me help her in the kitchen when I was younger?
I took that and made a modest career out of it by creating a place to share my ups and downs with anyone willing to watch. It wasn’t an instant success by any stretch of the imagination. Time and patience helped build my followers and with that came sponsors.
Companies offering to send me products, at no charge, to use in my videos while providing an honest review of them. The first I did with such an item kept me up all night as I feared the response if I didn’t care for it.
Thankfully, I did and went on to do more. Every now and then, one will come that could be better and the businesses are appreciative of my notes. Taking them to make improvements and resending them once they have.
And yes, version two has always received rave reviews.
My opinions being listened to is not something I take lightly. In fact, it’s a lot of responsibility resting on my shoulders. Not that I let that sway me in any direction.
Perhaps that’s it? Someone recognized me and wants to approach me.
It’s happened approximately three times and each is a memory I cherish because it means I’m helping people.
Maybe it doesn’t seem like much to some, but those who spoke to me disagreed.
Truth be told, I still keep in touch with them. Sharing recipes, creating others, and even doing a collaborative video with one of them.
The smile that brings forth dims as I remember that, were I too see any of those people again, I wouldn’t know who they are.
That sad, and honestly needed, reminder has me hesitating as I continue my shopping. The realization I’ve suddenly morphed into a too stupid to live person hits and now every other patron is a danger to me.
I hate thinking this way.
Gripping the cart’s handle, probably too tight as my knuckles are turning white, I steer in the direction of the checkout lanes, oh so ready to go.
The walls of my house that had earlier felt too confining now feel like the only place that’s safe.
Danny does, too, but he won’t be there. Honestly, I’m not sure when, or if, I’ll see him again.
I know I want to.
Standing in line, my eyes never focusing too long on one thing or customer, I wait my turn as those in front of me set their groceries on the conveyor belt. The next few minutes pass without instance and soon, I’m heading to my car where I start loading my bags in the back.
Suddenly uncomfortable, that feeling from earlier returns, this time stronger. Tempted to leave the remaining bag behind, I hurriedly shove it in the footwell, and close the door. Pushing the cart off to the side, something I’ve never done as I always take it to the rack, I mentally apologize for that laziness and get in my seat.
I haven’t gone but a mile before I see that same car from earlier.
Reaching to the side, I search for my cell by feel alone, not wanting to take my eyes from the road for a second – having a whole new appreciation for how easily an obstacle can run right out in front of you.
With the device in my grasp, I use the Google assist to place a call for me.
“Devlin,” comes before the first ring finishes and I instantly feel better.
“Danny.”
“Rae? What’s wrong?”
This is not going to be pleasant. “I’m on my way home.”
“Frooom?” The drawn out vowel doesn’t bode well for me. I’ve never seen or heard Danny angry, but I have a feeling that’s not going to hold true much longer.
“The grocery store.”
