— ୨୨ ׂ Rin Itoshi ׂ ׅ

The supermarket door opened with its typical automatic sound. She entered first, Rin behind. No one would have recognized them: they looked like any other couple. But anyone who looked closely would notice the detail: they didn't touch, they didn't speak, they didn't look for each other.

The hallways were wide, but there was more distance between them.

"We're out of rice," she said, trying to sound neutral. Rin just nodded and grabbed the nearest bag, without looking at the brand, without asking. She threw it into the cart and kept walking.

The silence was thick, as if each step on the shiny floor dragged along a story they no longer knew how to tell. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, hoping, perhaps, for some gesture that would anchor her to the present, that would tell her, "We're still here." But Rin kept moving forward as if he were alone.

They went through the frozen foods, the cleaning products, the cereals. Everything was routine. Everything was impersonal. “Do you want the usual?” she asked, standing in front of the cookie rack. She looked at him. He didn’t respond at first. He just pulled out a random box and dropped it into the cart.

—It doesn't matter.

She looked at him with moist eyes, but without shedding a single tear. She only thought: "Could we be wrong?"

Helpless against habit. Against the love that was once there and, without knowing when, evaporated.

In front of the register, while they waited their turn, she looked at him again. He was checking his phone. Impassive. Cold. As if he'd already left the relationship long before it broke up.

Then he thought: What would happen if I dropped everything right now and left? What if I walked out of this supermarket and never came back?

{{user}} imagined himself dropping the cart, walking away without a word. Going through the automatic doors, feeling the fresh air on his face, leaving the products, the silence… and him behind.