text: your teeth, "How you doing?" The brunette turns, smiles politely, "Fine, thanks." She pauses, unsure as to whether she should turn back to shelves or maintain eye contact.
  
  You take the initiative, "Shopping for one?" She smiles, "Yes. You're quite forward aren't you?" You reflect her smile, "Yes. But no-one ever got anywhere hiding under a bushel, did they?" "So you're not one to hide under a bushel then?" "When it's required, sure--", you falter (think of something funny, sexy) and she steps in, "Look I've got to get my shopping finished now, but I can see you for a drink later?"
  
  You smile again, "Sure... you're being quite forward now--for
  all you know I could be a loon." She looks you up and down, "No. I don't think so."
  
  Another story over. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > ask the woman about her day
  You sidle on over.
  
  "You look tired." She glances over her shoulder, "Pardon?"
  
  "Sorry--didn't mean to be rude. I just thought you were looking tired--had a hard day?" She smiles, "I'd love to say no, but you're right--I've had a stinker of a day", again she smiles, "and now I'm being chatted up by a loon in the supermarket. When all I want to do is get home and put my feet up." You give a mock look of upset, "I'm no loon!.. Put your feet up you say? Well, four feet are better than two--"
  
  She interrupts, "I'm going to have to stop you there, Mr. Supermarket smooth. You're a nice guy--well I don't know, but you seem nice--so I don't want to disappoint you. I'm not into men so much, you know?" You shrug, "...I could watch?" She groans and rolls her eyes to the heavens. You turn, taking a coin from your pocket and tossing it. For every tail there's a head. It's just a matter of numbers, and yours will be up soon. Till then just keep on trying...
  
  Another story done. And yet...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > remember illness
  You remember the one thing you didn't want to remember. Your
  last meal with Clare. She was in bed, pasty white and crumbling. She wanted something nice for her last meal and so you got some
  special Gnocchi brought up by room service. But she couldn't eat it and she dribbled, and couldn't swallow. And she couldn't even cry--nor could you, you had to be brave. But you don't now. As the memory opens up, the lock in your tear canal slowly eases open and there is release.
  
  Another story done. Then again...
  
  > Undress
  Tucking your toe under the hem of her dress, you flick it up. She spins round, clutching at her clothes, "Hey!"
  
  You back off, arms raised in an apologetic gesture, "Sorry. Sorry. Just thought you might like to slip into something a little more... comfortable?" She gives a look of incredulity, "What?" You move nearer, again, "Look--don't fret just get undressed. Come on
  slip out of that dress--what's wrong? You not got any underwear on? No, you have--I can see it now: Sexy black lingerie,
  clutching you tightly. Your bra only separated from your breasts by a layer of perspiration--" She slaps you, spitting "Jesus Christ. Go take a cold shower, get some fucking help!" as she strides off to the next aisle, leaving you giggling. Ha! She didn't guess. She didn't realise that is was you wearing the sexy black lingerie.
  The best Italian suspenders. Only the best next to your skin.
  Baby soft skin. Clapping your hands together you trot back to the trolley. Gnocchi for two? You'd like that wouldn't you Clare?
  I sure would, Clark. Sexy bitch!
  
  One more story over. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > Frown
  Your brow becomes furrowed, sporting a frown. You don't like it when you are forced to think about Rome, and more specifically Clare. She seems to be getting along with it--she's been with her new boyfriend for ages now (you can't stand him) and she seems fine talking to you. But you would much rather just, well, not keep in touch. It just keeps the wounds open...
  
  The frown follows you around for the rest of the shop (you feel sorry for the checkout girl--she gets a particularly severe look, no fault of her own) and spend the rest of the evening in a really dissatisfied mood.
  
  Another story over. But then...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > ask the woman about yourself
  She looks at you, "Sorry?" You blush, "Oh. Oh. Nothing." You quickly turn round and wheel your half-full trolley to the checkout. Then home.
  
  A story finished. But there are others...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > call Clare
  You lean round the end of the aisle, "Clare?" Again, louder: "Clare?" She walks into the aisle, "Yeah?" You take her hand and walk her along to the gnocchi, "Look, gnocchi, like in Rome--I've never seen it in the shops before." She picks up a packet and drops it in the trolley. "Get some for tea then?" she offers, pecking you on the lips.
  
  You have some for tea and it's like Rome, except: it's colder, you have work tomorrow and you're even more in love than you were
  then.
  
  Another story over. Then again...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > Pray
  You've prayed before--to no avail. But again you drop to one knee and close your eyes.
  
  "Please God. Please God. Please God. Please.."
  
  You stop--you know there is no point. You have sinned. You have been sinned against. It is too late. Best just go home and await judgement. Which you do.
  
  A story finished. But there are others...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > call the security guard
  "Help! Security!" A balding man in his forties, squeezed into a blue uniform appears at the bottom of the aisle. "Can I help you sir?" You run to him. Pull him close. Whisper in his ear: "You see that woman?" "Yes, sir" "She just raped me." "I don't quite understand sir?" "She is stealing all your food!" "Calm down sir, speak slowly" You raise your voice, "I will not be quiet! It's your job--stop her!" The guard pauses. You make a dash for the woman, "If you won't do your job, then I will--" He is too quick for you and hooks a foot around your leg. You crash to the floor and black out, the guard's words dragged with you into oblivion, "I think you ought to come with me, sir."
  
  A story finished. Then again...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > Empty trolley
  (your trolley)
  You look into the trolley; meals for one, toiletries for one--everything for one. You tip the trolley on to its side and
  it sheds its contents. A bottle smashes and wine spills onto the floor. The brunette hurries on nervously and you kick a can down the aisle. Then you leave into the night.
  
  Another story done. But there are others...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > Empty woman's trolley
  You jog up to the trolley and grab onto it with a hand. Putting a foot on the back wheels you pull it over--the contents bounce across the aisle, the metal crash of the trolley resounding round the aisle--
  
  The brunette spins round, "Shit!" You give her a menacing glare--"You don't need all that food! Where you're going--" A crushing blow from behind knocks the words out of your mouth. You fall to the floor, landing sharply on the contents of the brunette's trolley. A man stands over you. He has an arm round the woman, "You alright, Kate?" She nods.
  
  The man offers you a hand and pulls you up. When you are on your feet he releases your hand and steps back. Before you get a chance to dodge, his fist smacks into your face--
  
  Under the advice of a lawyer you decide not to prosecute; apparently it might require you to undergo another psychiatric evaluation. Probably best--just let it go.
  
  Another story over. Then again...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > find Clare
  You scoot round the corner of the aisle. Sure enough there she is, looking through the magazines. You pull up behind her and slide and arm round her waist. She laughs, "Get off! We're in public." You pull out a packet of gnocchi from behind your back, "Look what I found." She smiles, "Gnocchi? Like in Rome. How sweet!" Then she starts to walk off, "Come on, we've got to be out at eight and we've still all the shopping to get done, and tea to cook!"
  
  You turn the trolley and catch up with her.
  
  Another story done. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > follow the woman
  You stand by the gnocchi until she starts to move off. Then you walk in step with her, cornering the aisle a few metres behind her. She stops to put something in her trolley, and you pull up across the aisle. This goes on for a few minutes.
  
  You come to a point where you are straddling the line between following an attractive woman and stalking one. You decide to stop, and recommence your shopping.
  
  What made you follow her in the first place--sure she's attractive, but... Maybe there was something about her that rang a few bells. A dulled romance in the far reaches of your mind, reawakened, reborn in a stranger? Best forgotten, eh?
  
  One more story over. And yet...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > fill the woman's trolley
  You grab some bags of macaroni and walk over. You chuck them into the brunette's trolley. Then a few jars of sauce. She turns, her face a map of disbelief, "What are you doing?"
  
  You don't get it. You're just helping her with her shopping, "I was... just trying to help. Helping with your shopping..." She pushes you away, "Get off! Leave me alone!" You stand back, "Sorry..."
  
  You walk back to your trolley, "If you do need my help--just ask." God, next time you won't bother. What is it with people?
  
  Another story done. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > fill your trolley
  Grabbing some bags of Gnocchi you continue, whipping round the store in no time and filling the trolley. You have almost too much
  stuff. You pay for it--it comes to a tidy sum--and wheel the bags out to the car. You pack the boot and drive out onto the road. When you get back home you spend a while emptying the car, carrying food to the flat and unpacking.
  
  Then you put on a meal, take a drink, sit back and relax...
  
  Another story done. But there are others...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > crack up
  Foam gurgles on the edges of your lips as you cease to monitor their output,
  
  "GnocchiOh!Oh!GnocchideGato!Clare--je
  t'aime--Iwillalways
  
  gnocchignocchiWhereareyoUNOw? DiningwIThtHEwORmsinaNEARthy...paradiseOH! Claregnochignochignoggignokkkkkkkkkkkeeeee!
  gnocchigibber
  gnocchish. G'night!"
  
  You bow out without a fight--the right thing to do; just like she would have wanted--if only--right? But the train doesn't stop in time. Always comes back to the potato. He smiles, "Gnog Gnog Gnoch pot pot."
  
  Another story done. Then again...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > jump
  Staring at the gnocchi you feel a memory slowly, awkwardly, awfully rise to the surface.
  
  --The scooter driver looks surprised. You grab for Clare and jump to the side--bounce across the road, scrape your head--
  
  Scuffed and light headed you open your eyes... your hands are empty--Clare is a few metres away, lying awkwardly. Splattered with a thin red liquid, reflecting the scooter's bright red paintwork.
  
  The scooter skids--you jump. You are in the supermarket. Your hands are empty, sweaty.
  
  Another story over. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > Panic
  The gnocchi sits smugly on the shelves. The brunette is either:
  
  (a) a spy sent by the hospital,
  (b) a friend of Clare's, intent on revenge,
  or,
  (c) your mother, in disguise.
  
  You slowly start to back away, keeping your eyes on her. As you clear the end of the aisle, she turns, reaching into her jacket. You dive across the end of the aisle, scrambling to your feet and running towards the exits. You get to the doors, wait. After what seems like an age the automatic sensors concede and the doors slide open. You emerge into the car park. Shit.
  
  here. You can't escape now.
  
  You fall to your knees, a trolley-parker approaching--why are they being so blatant? They're normally so clever. They must know they have won.
  
  Sweating in your skull, your brain decides that the best way to calm you down is to deny you consciousness. The world fades, blurry and greasy, the parker speaks--threatening code-speak--"Sir, are you OK?"
  
  Another story done. Then again...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > talk to the self
  You speak. Funny how talking to yourself seems like the right thing to do when you are in public.
  
  But when you get home you know that it won't be enough. You'll want company--companionship. A companion. But you can't buy those in the shops.
  
  You buy what you can and take it home.
  
  A story finished. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > laugh at the woman
  Look at her--she's ridiculous. She's--what--thirty? Forty? Old, anyhow. Yet look at how she's dressed... and the way she's spending so much time choosing a pasta sauce; does she think she looks cultured? She's not even much of a looker. Pretty funny actually. You laugh, loud--and so she know's it's her you're laughing at. Soon enough she totters off to the next aisle, red faced. Ha! Ha! People are so
  funny.
  
  One more story over. And yet...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > remember Clare's leaving
  You remember the note, word for word:
  
  ..I did love you once.. but have to leave you now.. hope you will get over it.. for the best.. there is not anyone else.. I'm sorry.. Clare.
  
  The note answered no questions. It gave rise to far too many questions--and maybe it's time to either find answers or forget.
  
  You finish shopping, go home and think.
  
  One more story over. But there are others...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > tell the woman about the clare's leaving
  You walk up to the brunette and try to tell her about the note, about Clare's sudden leaving. But the words fail to come, you can't
  do this. So you do a quick about-turn and walk back to your
  trolley.
  
  Some things just aren't meant to be shared. You trundle the trolley on, the hint of a tear sliding into the corner of your eye.
  
  Another story done. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > remember the meal
  You remember the meal like this: Clare sat opposite. It was warm but an evening breeze took the uncomfortable edge of the heat. You ordered and the food took a while to come. The wine made your face red. You walked back after the meal via the Spanish Steps. You sat amongst the crowds until the police moved you on so that they could wash the steps ready for the tourists in the morning. You strolled back to the hotel down backstreets, past the four fountain junction; a crossroads with fountains built into the houses on each corner. You knew from experience that the water in them was ice cold, even in the afternoon heat. You ran a finger through the water as you walked past and wiped it on your trousers before taking Clare's hand in yours. Which seems like a good place to end.
  
  One more story over. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > remember Pantheon
  You remember the Pantheon. It looked so solid... it had stood the test of time. You were sure that nothing could be ephemeral after being near that. It was so beautiful, yet strong. Timeless. But you were wrong--it was the only thing that was so. Your life, your relationship, Clare.. all open to change, decay and collapse.
  
  The image of the Pantheon in your head slowly sinks, failing to support you with its pillars. You move the memory aside, out of direct sight, and continue with the shopping.
  
  Another story over. Then again...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > remember the love
  Remember love? You don't even know what the word means any more. You need to find love again before you can remember it. Right now all there is is a dulled pain. And Gnocchi rubbing it in.
  
  Another story over. Not the only one...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > remember the day's work
  Your mind wanders over the day's work. Fairly usual stuff; Johnathon really pissed you off, taking your work, putting a cover on it and getting all the credit. But lunch was cool; Michelle and you had a fun chat about her new boyfriend over coffee. You pointed out that he was exactly twice her age, something she hadn't realised. Plus, you managed to get all the Longbridge account finished, which is a weight off your mind--
  
  A mental kick up the arse--stop thinking about work and get on with the shopping. Clare'll kill you if you're back late.
  
  A quick scoot round the rest of the supermarket--a full trolley--then, stepping on the gas, you arrive home just before seven. Clare opens the door to you, "Ooh... home early? What have I done to be so lucky?"
  
  A story finished. But then...
  Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing
  you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.
  
  On to the next aisle.
  
  Interesting... fresh Gnocchi--you haven't had any of that since... Rome.
  
  The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly coloured aisle markers visible.
  
  You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.
  
  There is a brunette woman a few metres ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
  
  > Y.
  debugcheapnitfol quit with exit status: 0