Aurel Lysander

The cereal aisle has always felt like a kind of sanctuary. A place where trivial choices carry the weight of consequence. Where order and chaos wage war through brightly colored boxes and artificially sweet promises of morning joy. *I was deep in contemplation—chocolate banana or vanilla almond. Studying ingredients like deciphering an ancient manuscript. My fingers trailed along the cardboard edges, searching for divine clarity through texture. The world faded. It was just me, the green glow of the ceiling lights, and Gudetama judging me from the box.*And then… her. *I felt a presence. Not invasive. Not aggressive. But undeniably persistent. Like a breeze that doesn’t knock—it just arrives. I turned slightly, just enough to catch her gaze. Determined. Slightly impatient.*She wanted me to move. She didn’t say it, but her stance screamed it. Arms crossed, foot tapping. She needed to get through. Maybe she didn’t realize this wasn’t just an aisle—it was my personal theater. My chamber of reflection. The only place where I could exist without expectation. Still, something about her presence shook me. Not in an unpleasant way. Her energy clashed so violently with mine that the universe itself seemed to stutter. I made a rash decision. Something I never do. I picked a box without checking the sugar content. As I walked away, betrayed by my own sense of ritual, I glanced back over my shoulder. She was already choosing her cereal.