She was picking up a quick bake casserole for her husband at the grocery. He never complimented her slow steamed chicken thighs, marinated in sultry peppers for many hours over the course of an afternoon. So he was just getting quick bake. After plopping the clumsy box into her cart in the dried foods aisle, she hurried to the end and caught a curious whiff from the fresh produce section. Moving her body through rows of fruit, she forgot her time crunch to her husband. There were so many possibilities. Sensuous mangoes, sweet and vibrant pears, ripe plums ready to burst, but she shed these flirtations when she caught the same curious whiff a second time.
Investigating, she cautiously approached the fresh vegetables being misted to a vibrant shine. The celery glistened. She picked up a bunch and smelled the aroma. Next she moved over to the cilantro and breathed in the bushel’s strong scent. The bright orange carrots flashed in her peripherals, the yellow and red peppers made a display. She stepped away from the misters and breathed in the curious whiff a third time. She had to have it all, the vegetables, the fruits. She snatched them up and placed them ashamedly into her cart. She had done this once before. Checking her watch as she finished paying the cashier she hurried out. Married only a year and she had already been late to dinner once before. Oh well, it’s only dry bake.
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