Corn Flakes

Aisle three.

Fluorescent light on yellow boxes.

His hand,

ridged knuckles, reaching.

Cheapest brand.

Same one.

He'd buy it then,

when I was small.

A habit. A choice.

Years gone.

The way he paused,

just a second.

A small weight shifted.

The cart wheel squealed.

He turned,

and didn't see me.