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Oliver drives into a vast parking lot and brings the car to a stop.
“Let’s grab what we need and hurry out,” Oliver says, climbing out of the car.
Following behind him and Simon, I look toward the towering building before us. Breathing in the fresh, cool breeze, I stretch my arms.
“Come on,” Oliver says, gesturing at me.
“I’ve never been to a place like this before,” I say as we head toward the main entrance.
“What?” Simon says with a chuckle. “Didn’t you just say you loved shopping?”
“I did love shopping but it was for bags and shoes,” I say. “Heather does all the shopping for groceries, so Dad and I never needed to come to a grocery mart like this one.”
A vast arena, filled with shelf after shelf of grocery items, is revealed to me as we enter the supermarket. “Wow,” I breathe, my eyes widening. “This place is huge.”
My mates snigger.
“Come on,” says Simon, taking my hand in his. “We’ll show you where the flowers are.”
I’m led through the aisles until we come upon a section selling bouquets and a variety of fresh flowers.
“They have a lot of choices here,” I say, surprised. “It’s almost as good as a florist’s.”
“Yep,” says Oliver. “How about we let you choose the flowers while Si and I go get some wine?”
“Sure.”
“Stay here after you’re done, okay?” says Simon.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right here.”
When my mates leave, I turn toward the shelves containing the bouquets. They’re all lovely but I easily get attracted by the vases displaying fresh, vividly colored carnations.
My gaze fixes on a bunch of bright crimson carnations. Moving toward it, I grab a simple bouquet and lean into it.
The mild fragrance invigorates my senses at once. A smile comes onto my lips as I decide to buy it.
Since it barely took me a minute to decide on the flowers, so I stroll to the adjacent aisle selling condiments. The wide variety of sauces and spices are so fascinating, I absentmindedly keep walking down the narrow lane.
Soon, I come upon the frozen goods section. Ambling toward one of the fridges, I peek in through the glass doors. Suddenly, a mound of colorful packages grabs my attention.
“I can’t believe they still sell these,” I whisper, opening the refrigerator door and picking up a popsicle in a bright orange wrapper. My mom used to love these and would buy them for us every summer.
The memory makes me smile.
I’m about to grab some more when my phone starts vibrating. Putting the popsicle down, I dig my hand into my coat’s pocket.
To my surprise, I see that Oliver’s calling me.
“Hey,” I say, answering the call.
“Thank fuck,” he breathes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when I hear him panting harshly.
“Where are you, Rory?”
“I’m right here,” I say.
