[location: amish market]
sarah’s hands ran over the labels of the food as she tried to remember what it was exactly her mother had asked her to pick up. her parents were in town for the week, had decided to visit spur of the moment and it had left sarah stressed, overworked trying to clean her home, and needing even just five minutes away from everyone, from the judgement she heard in her mother’s voice every time she found a single speck of dust in the kitchen, the near meltdown she had had when her mother had yelled at her for nearly five minutes straight over an empty toilet paper roll in her own home, and she sighed as she continued reading labels. she knew she should probably text her mother at this point, ask her what exactly she had been looking for, but admitting that she had forgotten wasn’t something she was willing to do and she waited until she spotted someone before approaching them, hoping from the vague recollection of what her mother had told her that the other would be able to help. “i’m so sorry to bother you,” she started, “but do you know if there’s a cheese that also has like wine in it or something?”, she asked, desperate brown eyes gazing at the other, “i think it has the word port in it but i could be wrong,” she said, an anxious hand run through her silver hair as she spoke.
@salemstart
