Liana's POV
I decided to get some food before heading home.
The grocery store was bright, and it smelled like freshly baked bread and antiseptic cleaner that made me wrinkle my nose.
The automatic doors whooshed open with a puff of warm air laced with the sweet, yeasty scent of in-store bakery, fresh loaves cooling under heat lamps, cut by the sharp tang of floor polish and chilled produce mist. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright after the dimming streets, casting long shadows down the wide aisles lined with bright packaging.
I pushed a cart down the narrow aisles, the boxes of cereal tagged with, “Buy one, get one free!” I wanted to throw a box at the nearest shelf. Lies.
The wheels squeaked faintly on the linoleum, still slick from the day's foot traffic and a recent
