Produce
Storm
As I walked past the street corner, I suddenly realized it was a grocery store. The realization startled me, freezing the moment and warping my perception of it. In that moment, the inside of the store gave off an unreal bluish glow. The bright bits of orange and yellow, arranged in cunningly charming ordered piles, were strangely seen, as if through a piece of tinted blue glass.
As I continued on past the street corner, I saw how small it was, with non-industrial standard shelves (quite homey, really) displaying available goods, mostly expensive boutique food. Huh. Who would have thunk? Your very own grocery store, on the bottom floor, just like it was New York. Not that I'd ever lived there. Nor did I think we were in New York at the moment. Irvine is probably as opposite to Manhattan as you could get.
I'm going nowhere with these very pointless speculations.
So I sat down and smoothed down my skirt, waiting for him. Oh, there was a very big and noisy fountain. All lit up. Figures.
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