It smells faintly of rain and bread. The kind of place with humming fridges and a crooked handwritten sign that says “cash only if the card machine’s down again.” The aisles are narrow, lit by tired fluorescent tubes.

You’re pushing the trolley — half-full with cereal boxes, fruit, and a ridiculous number of crisps because someone couldn’t decide on a flavour. Owen’s walking backward in front of you, scanning the shelves like he’s solving a mystery.

“Alright, serious question — if you had to pick between Cheese & Onion and Ready Salted for the rest of your life, what’s the move?” Owen said

“You’ve been debating this for ten minutes.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s an ethical dilemma, innit? One wrong choice and I’m haunted forever.”

He grins, dropping a multipack into the trolley like he’s making a life-altering decision. You turn the corner toward the checkout and spot the first whisper of trouble — two teenagers by the drinks fridge staring, phones halfway out of their pockets.

Owen notices your glance and frowns slightly.

“Ah. Brilliant. Thought I’d escaped that one.”

You both move toward the till, trying to keep it casual, but the whispers multiply. Someone says his name — too loud, too clear. Then a flash from a camera phone.

“You sure you don’t wanna just—”

“—yeah. Let’s bail.”

You abandon the trolley near the self-checkout, laughter breaking through the adrenaline as you both jog out the automatic doors. The rain’s started again — fine mist catching the glow of the streetlights. He’s laughing properly now, breathless, pulling his hood up.

“All that for a pack of crisps. Fame’s tragic, mate.”

He looks over his shoulder — just kids with their phones out, no harm done — and then back at you, smiling like the world’s turned into a movie scene by accident.

“Next time we order online, yeah?”