It's In The Other Aisle
We live in an age when the sun barely rises. Sometimes, it comes out twice a week and other days are grey and dull, then a kind of melancholy engulfs the atmosphere and descends on the city like it's the biblical end time.
So far, scientists and astrologers have no explanation for this anomaly. But it's quickly affecting every sphere of our existence.
But the sun is out today, its rays struggling to pierce through the thick clouds to reach us. I pull on my jacket and take a walk to the only shopping mart in the district to get some groceries.
A woman carrying a toddler in her arms catches my eye. She's right in front of me, thin and looking weary. There's a teenage employee stocking the shelves. “Excuse,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Baby formula?”
“It's in the other aisle,” the boy says without looking at the woman. She thanks him and walks away. I open my mouth to set the boy straight on decent behaviour when the woman returns, close to tears, her baby fussing in her arms.
“They said you have the key. The formulas are locked in the cabinet,” she says, frustrated. The boy sighs, fishes a key from his pocket with the weariness of someone twice his age and finally looks at her and then me.
I scoff and narrow my eyes at him. Inflation has changed so many things in our country leading my shopping malls to shut down. People literally hunt for food to survive while others struggle to get jobs yet this entitled boy can't even be nice and courteous to customers.
The woman glances at the price tag on the cabinet and laughs. It's a delirious one. Either that or she starts crying. The boy's eyes widen and he shifts awkwardly. “Er, do you want me to get it down?”
She looks at the price tag again and shakes her head. “No, my son doesn't need it that badly.”
She turns to leave and I hold out my hand to block her way. “Wait,” I say gently and turn to the boy, “give her one.”
She opens her mouth to argue or thank me, I'm not sure but I smile and shake my head. “It's okay. Take it…for your son.”
Tears pool in her eyes as she accepts the formula and leaves the mart. The employee has the grace to look ashamed.
Baby food in locked cabinets. We debate and fight new policies every day but in the next few weeks, we accept them and adapt as though it's normal.
I push my trolley towards the checkout as the boy returns to stocking the shelves, pay for the baby formula and leave the mart empty handed. And full in my heart.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "it's in the other aisle".
Thank you for visiting my blog.
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