All the while, the bakery and rotisserie battled it out with each other to grab customers; they reached out in smoky tendrils of alluring aromas. Freshly baked bread, hot and crisp, mesmerised countless... but who could resist the delectable taste of honey roast chicken, tender and succulent?
Elsewhere, employees scurried around about like squirrels readying themselves for winter – customers’ every need were tended to with the standard impassive, teeth baring smile.
Deep within the supermarket, a small child dragged his feet along the polished marble as he was pulled along; shiny, smart trainers screeched piercingly against the flooring. The boy whined noisily. Prying heads snapped to the source of the noise, either sighing disdainfully or smiling knowingly. Unruly ebony black hair exploded from the boy’s head like a jungle, illuminating a sharp nose and bright, azure blue eyes that glowed with resolve. A stubby arm clawed at the air behind him, cocktail sausage fingers wiggling and stretching out towards an aisle that was getting further and further out of reach. All his tiny hands could grab was the air… Cold and gentle wisps were caught in his palms. Whining as loud as a banshee, he began a struggle to break free of his mother’s hand grasp. His eyes started to well up with tears. Angry rivers cascaded down his cheeks. No response. No reaction. Retracting his arm, he balled his free hand into a fist and rubbed the tears and snot away. He wiped the sticky, viscous substances onto his clothes: a striped woollen jumper topped with fire engine red dungarees. The mother and child soon disappeared into the pandemonium.
Cheerfully, a Caucasian woman pushed a large grilled metal cart brimming with empty cardboard boxes. A soft, melodic hum escaped her lips as she made her way down the main aisle, emphasised by a friendly smile and large, twinkling eyes. Curly, red snakes framed her face, concealing an ear embellished top to bottom with jewels. Adorning her was a plain white name tag blaring out ‘Karen’ pinned on her T-shirt that hugged her plump figure. Youthful eyes and smooth skin, untouched by the creases of age, told she was in her early twenties. The cart rattled like a train travelling on tracks. Its wheels squeaked raucously, as did Karen’s tatty trainers, releasing a clear warning for people to make way and step aside.
At first, the gum had swamped Karen’s mouth with a juicy, fiery mint flavour; now it was stale and dry, devoid of any flavour, viciously sucking t he moisture from her tongue. Little by little, the furious pink grooves in the palms of her hand grew deeper – the hard metal was pressing relentlessly into her skin. A lion growled in her stomach. She flashed a glance at her wristwatch and sighed, but swiftly masked her small disappointment with a smile.
Tucked away from the chaos was the Entertainment & Technology section. Just over a dozen shoppers were dotted around the few aisles, hovering around certain sections to inspect technical products quietly.
Bang.
A DVD clattered to the floor. The person responsible looked up warily, bulging brown eyes swimming from side to side. He tensed, fists clenched. A five o’clock shadow of stubble - a mixture of brown, grey and white hairs - coated the man’s jaw. It was rough and bristled. Dark, baggy clothes that consisted of a waterproof jacket, a threadbare jumper, coal black trousers and grubby leather shoes clothed him. There was a nervous look in his eyes, mixed with one of determination, which highlighted heavy eye bags. Once he seemed happy no-one had noticed, the man picked the item up and turned back to a shelf stuffed with DVDs. A sigh of relief escaped him. As surreptitiously as a cat, he tucked it into one of his deep pockets; he ran a dirt encrusted finger along its smooth, stiff spine to be sure it was secure. Licking his chapped lips, he tasted the coffee he had been lucky enough to drink earlier – its rich, heavenly flavours still clung to his throat. With another furtive look, he nonchalantly took a handful of DVDs from the shelf and stuffed them into his pockets. His lips quirked upwards into a smug smirk.
“Cleaners required in aisle five!” boomed a smooth, female voice.
Just another day at the supermarket. STUBBLE
