Secret Shopper

To whom it may concern,

In my previous blog post I discussed my devastation at the hands of the Scottish Arts Trust and the unusual turn of events that followed. But now, I am pleased to offer you the first of my two submissions. Don't get comfortable because it’s only 250 words but do grab your shoes, your big coat and get ready for a very brief trip to the supermarket in a truly terrifying tale I like to call:

“Will someone shut that child up?” she spat, staring at the screaming toddler sitting in my trolley; my car keys in one hand and a half eaten apple in the other. My exhausted gaze shifted from a pack of lentils to the small, crooked woman in front of me. I stared at her, watching her face writhe and contort with somewhat unwarranted anger. I narrowed my eyes, focusing on hers. The fury within them, intermittently illuminated by the flickering, fluorescent light behind me. At once, she turned away and marched down the aisle. 

As I browsed the dairy cooler I felt her presence again. I moved my trolley closer to me and tried to ignore her. She pointedly stood about three feet away and stared directly at the side of my head. I turned again to meet her fierce gaze and without breaking the connection reached out my trembling hand and took a fresh carton of milk from the shelf, opened the top and held it at arms length. 

The eye contact was only broken when I turned the carton upside down and she watched the spew of curled milk chunks slopping onto the tiled floor. She looked back to me with a confused expression and swiftly walked away. What happened later that day will always be a mystery. They said staff members would maintain the restrooms throughout the day and that the body of an old woman they found there showed weeks of decomposition, but was somehow still alive.