Pacing up and down the aisle I was in search of a spice a Mediterranean dish called for. Tamarind. Thoroughly searching each rack I huffed in annoyance.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmured. “Stupid store.”
It was becoming apparent my dinner plans for one were going to change. Looking down at my basket full of items specific to the meal I had planned it appeared it would be grilled chicken and broccoli again. Running my hand through my hair I sighed in defeat.
“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice said behind me.
“Oh, sorry,” I apologized as if I had done something wrong. Why do we do that? I quickly pondered shaking off the thought. Shifting back on my feet I watched the woman choose a container of garlic powder.
I could feel my eyes narrow when they caught the side of her face. She looked familiar but it was hard to tell. Her blonde streaked hair fell forward only allowing me a glance of her creamy pale skin and petite nose.
