She had this tattoo of a ufo aircraft on her forearm, underneath the hovering disc the words ‘never alone’ were written.
It was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen. And I was forced to follow it around for a good five hours while she showed be were the bathrooms were and explained how to stack the displays properly.
She helped me build a pyramid of baked bean cans, and the whole time I was just desperately trying to find an actual good reason for her putting that ufo onto her arm. Desperate, because if there wasn’t a good reason I’d have to give up, maybe on everything. My sense of cosmic angst bounced off the walls the supermarket. When they hired me to stack shelves, I doubt they’d considered the amount of existential crisis I could derive from a tattoo and a small stack of saucy beans.