SUPERMARKET

on’t let the exterior of the double glazed automatic glass doors fool you, for once they slide open, what lies in front is nothing short of a snake pit.

I walk through the gates only to divulge in a cacophony of noise. Accompanying the ruckus, ostentatious and iridescent red signs prey to the guilty pleasures of innocent victims passing by, enticing them with insidious promises. A corridor of the same monotonous whey aisles brace in themselves in formation against the pulsating crowd. They are armed with a lethal combination of discounts and sales, forever ready to attack. Eager customers push and shove as they try and gain access to scintillating price tags and bargains. Amid the chaos the statuesque security guards seem to be the only still people in sight. The one thing keeping me from spending the day in the nascent honey rays of the sun, is the cool breeze from the vents oozing through the gaps between each customer. The pleasant air conditioning helps waft the aroma of foods from the delicatessen at one end of the market to the other like a nymph luring her men in before the kill.

Deep within the supermarket, a small child drags his feet along the scuffed marble, pulled along by the firm grip of his mother. His multicoloured sneakers screech piercingly against the flooring as he whines aloud. Prying heads snap to the source of the unwelcome soprano, some sigh in disdain while smile unknowingly. His cry finally subsides after surreptitiously placing a bag of M&M’s in the trolley. To my right a woman struggles to walk through to the checkout section. The handles from her shopping bag cover her arms like wrist bands, while the thin straps of the overflowing bags sink deep into her skin. One might find this quite amusing if they are not one of the many desperate people hoiting about the store.