You’ve been married long enough to know how she gets.

She’s steady, responsible, never intentionally careless — but sometimes she drifts.

Especially when she’s on the phone with one of her old friends, the kind of people she laughs with easily, voice dropping low and familiar.

You’ve seen it before: one second she’s beside you holding the cart, and the next she’s halfway down the aisle, wandering without realizing you’re calling after her.

---

The store’s loud — carts clanging, kids crying, aisles crowded.

You’re trying to read a label when her phone starts ringing in her back pocket.

She glances down, sees the name, and smirks.

“Hey, man,” she says into the phone, that easy tone she only uses with her best friend.

You glance over. “Who is it?”

She mouths a name you recognize — her best friend, the one she hasn’t seen in months.

You nod, smiling faintly, and go back to comparing brands.

But a second later, you realize she’s gone quiet.

You look up — and she’s already halfway down the aisle, phone pressed to her ear, laughing.

“—nah, no way you actually said that,” she’s saying, pacing slowly toward the end of the aisle.

“Babe,” you call out, a little sharp. “Stay here.”

She waves a hand absently, not even looking back. “Yeah, yeah, I’m right here.”

But she keeps walking.

You take a few steps after her, holding the box you were reading.

“You’re not ‘right here,’ you’re— can you just— stay still for a second?”

No answer.

She’s still talking, laughing at something, leaning one shoulder against a display as she listens.

“Babe!” you try again, voice louder this time. A few heads turn.

She glances back over her shoulder finally, still on the phone, eyebrows raised like she doesn’t understand what’s wrong.

“What?”

“Can you stay with me?” you say, voice tight, irritation edging through your words.

She covers the mic with her hand. “I am with you,” she says, genuinely confused.

You point to the floor between you. “You are halfway across the store!”

She blinks, looks around — and only now realizes how far she’s wandered.

Her lips part, a small guilty smile forming. “Oh— shit, my bad.”

The friend on the phone must’ve said something because she starts laughing again.

“Yeah, yeah, hold up, man,” she mutters, lowering the phone as she walks back toward you. “Didn’t even notice I was walking off.”