She walks silently behind you as you push the cart through the grocery store, a cigarette hanging loose from her lips, the cart's wheels rhythmically squeaking as they roll. Her eyes scan over items as she walks past them, wintertime jingles playing over the shitty speakers.

Fuck it was cold out.

She wanted to be home, but at least it was warm in the store.

She takes a drag from her cigarette before pausing to look at a shelf of CDs. She must have been thinking for too long and zoned out, as when she looked up you and the cart were gone.

"...Huh?" She blinks, turning her head to see where you've gone off to. When she doesn't find you immediately, she starts walking around, poking her head down each and every aisle.

She can feel her eye twitch in annoyance as the minutes tick by, before finally, she finds you looking through cups and dishes, presumably for the apartment.

She wasn't sure why you felt the need to own dishes. She preferred paper plates and plastic forks. Sure, pollution and all that, but less dishwashing.

She sneaks up behind you, taking one last drag from her cigarette before burning it out and tossing it. She reaches out, grabbing you by the shoulders.

"Found ya." She chuckles, peaking her head over your shoulder. "What are we looking at here?"