“Small-Town Groceries & The First Side-Eye”
The town was small, just as I remembered it. It was the kind of place where everybody knew everybody, and one traffic light felt like overkill.
Adrian pulled into the tiny gravel grocery store lot, parking beneath a weatherworn wooden sign that read: "Griffin’s Market – Est. 1952," its letters slightly chipped and faded but still proud.
“Damn…” Adrian groaned, opening my door.
He stretched, arms reaching high until his back cracked.
“After driving four hours, my spine done filed a complaint. But nah,” he added, inhaling dramatically like he was tasting the air. “It feels good to be out the city.”
Adrian paused and sniffed again. “You smell that? That’s freedom. That’s peace.”
I shot him a skeptical glance.
You said that like you’re on the run or something.
Before I could even process that thought fully, his phone rang; the same phone that had been blowing up nonstop the entire ride up. Every time I glanced over, it lit up again, persistent and attention-seeking.
“Work,” he muttered, swiping the screen away with visible annoyance.
I chose not to press the matter; I had no real reason to doubt him. Still… a nagging feeling in my gut had me casting discreet side-eyes his direction every few moments, wondering what kind of “work” could require so much attention.
As we stepped into the market, a little brass bell jingled cheerfully, announcing our entrance. The place smelled like pine cleaner and old gum wrappers.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” a warm, familiar voice called from behind a neatly stacked display of canned chili.
I turned, grinning wide. “Mr. Griffin.”
He wiped his hands on his blue apron, the fabric stained with a lifetime of service and walked from behind the counter with a twinkle in his warm brown eyes that spoke of years of kindness.
“I thought that was you,” he said, his arms open wide for a hug. “You always did have that ‘city girl pretending to be country’ walk.”
“Guilty as charged,” I laughed, pulling back to meet his friendly gaze.
“So, you’re here for the holidays?” he inquired, genuine interest lighting up his face.
"Just for the weekend,” I replied.
Mr. Griffin was used to seeing me alone... or with Bryce. So when he spotted Adrian, he gave him a quick up-and-down assessment; that telltale look that said, “he's new, huh?” but chose not to dwell on it.
“Mmm,” he hummed, glancing out the window at Adrian’s SUV. “Well, just to be safe, you might wanna grab more groceries than you came for.”
“Oh?” I asked, curious. “Why is that?”
“Supposed to getprettybad out here in the next few days. A snowstorm warning went out this morning. You know them mountain roads can get slick faster than you think,” he cautioned, a hint of seriousness in his tone.
I raised my eyebrows. “I saw the alert, but I’m planning on beinglong gonebefore it hits.”
Mr. Griffin shrugged, straightening a slightly crooked bag of oranges.
“Still… I’d rather you be safe than sorry. The power went out for three days last time it hit.”
Adrian froze mid-motion as he deeply focused on a bag of beef jerky like it carried financial and spiritual significance.
“Wait, you think we might get snowed in?”
I quickly shook my head, not wanting to add fuel to either of our anxieties.
