Yeah…

Milk. Bread. In and out. That’s the lie. List in my pocket folded like a cheat code, Everybody else moving like the beat owed, Phones yelling futures, voices overtrained, They sip certainty neat, I watch them sway. I move slow on purpose, like it’s proof of depth, Like calm is a skill I personally kept, Clock the rush, think “wow, look at this crowd” Smile to myself that’s the buzz kicking now. “Gotta stay sharp.” “Can’t fall behind.” “That’s just life.” Everybody drunk on knowing the route I’m sober enough to notice or so I assume They spill conviction all over the floor I step around it, feeling cleaner than before Automatic doors open, lights go flat, Fluorescent honesty, no depth, no gaps, Produce lined perfect, symmetrical pride, Like life if you listen and never ask “why”. Lady squeezing fruit like it owes her truth, I judge her grip, then judge that move, Catch my reflection in freezer glass damn, Even my calm starting to look like a brand. I grab whatever, random, feel advanced, Like chaos is wisdom when I do the dance, Didn’t see it then, but that ease, that stance? Ego just changed outfits, same old glance. She’s cutting meat, steady, zero flair, She says “How much?” like she’s nowhere else, No metaphor hiding under the blade, Just weight on a scale, practiced, paid. I almost feel disappointed, nothing profound, My head wanted symbols, the world didn’t bow, She wraps the meat, tape snaps, next turn, Meaning didn’t show up, refund confirmed. Everybody drunk on explaining the rain I’m sober narrating why I’m not the same They call it direction, I call it loud Still holding my cup a little too proud Checkout line short, conveyor belt hum, Cashier scans items like time’s not a gun, She’s older maybe, or just less rushed, Moves like nothing’s about to collapse. She looks at my cart, then looks at me, Says, “You cookin’ for one or feeding a team?” I laugh too quick, say “Just me tonight,” She nods like that information’s light. Then, without changing tone or speed, She says, “Funny how much thinking people do Right here.” Taps the counter. “Most of it don’t help with dinner.” She keeps scanning like she didn’t drop a bomb, Asks if I want a bag, paper or none, I hesitate hate that she clocked my head, She smiles like she sees this every day. I say, “Yeah, sorry, long day,” reflexive lie, She says, “They all are. That’s why they buy.” Then adds, almost to herself, but clear: “Store’s quieter when people forget they’re here.” Receipt prints long, she tears it clean, Hands it to me like it’s not a thing, Says, “You’d be surprised how little you need Once you stop arguing with the aisle.” Machine beeps approved, my chest feels caught, Not ‘cause she’s wise ‘cause she’s not, She didn’t try to teach, didn’t fix my view, Just kept being here while I tried to be true. I realize standing there, receipt in my hand, I liked feeling sober. Liked that stance. Liked watching the crowd like I cracked a code, While sipping my version of the same overload. I fold the receipt, miss the trash, pick it up, Laugh low yeah, I drank from the cup, Not ambition, not fear, not the popular kind, Just the need to feel clearer than everyone else’s mind. Maybe nobody drunk, nobody sane Maybe we all just tense in our lanes I came for dinner, not depth or control Bought food, bought time, dropped the role She says, “Have a good night.” Like she means tonight. I walk home thinking less. Which feels enough.