Two bags for five thousand Won. Any two bags, for five thousand! I hear a clerk's amplified computer voice across the dairy aisle. The pre-packed bread section offers about twenty different kinds of toast bread. I examine the shelf like I were reading a book. Milk toast, corn toast, morning toast, roman toast, there's so many of them, and they all look the same.
I make my pick and go on. There's the wine corner, and I wish they had a decent cheese desk, too. Real cheese. I enjoy the Camembert they import from France, but the rest is rather questionable. I pass the cerial aisle and let out a little sigh, because they stopped selling the one that I used to buy. Now, all they have is frosty plastic sugar chocolate honey flakes.
As the three tone market melody starts for the millionth time I pass the cookie aisle. There they are, the gigantic boxes of sweet lovely Margarets. They're on sale, too. I don't believe it. My eyes are fixed, what do I do. Should I? Of course not, that's not the right question. But, do I? No. I pinch my bread and tell myself to walk away, to get out of the danger zone.
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