The fluorescent lights reflected off the floor tiles and looked to Roger just like shiny dishes in the sink. He hid his eyes from the brightness with his left shirtsleeve, by pressing the red flannel fabric across the bridge of his nose. Badly, so badly, he wanted to sink down to the floor of the grocery store and rock back and forth on his heels. But he didn’t.

He summoned strength. It came slowly at first, like the last drops of salad dressing slithering down the neck of the bottle. And then all at once. He pulled his arm away from his face with great difficulty and blinked outwards at all the colors. Every color you could imagine, even the ones you have never seen, blinked back.

“Sir, do you need help finding anything?” asked the aisles and shelves.

Roger looked down at his cart. All he’d managed to pick up was a rectangular box of FUNKY HEALTHY BLUEBERRY CHOCOLATE cereal. The characters on the box, which were little blueberry and chocolate men, looked only like smarmy shapes which undulated before his eyes. They danced at him. Or for him. Or maybe they didn’t dance at all but he swore he could see their shiny bodies moving and swimming across the waxy coated cardboard. He smiled.

“You’re beautiful,” he told them.

“Sir?”

He rubbed his eyes and then there was a boy standing next to him. He had red hair and a very tidy face, like an elf.

“Sir?” asked the elf boy. He leaned forward and rubbed his clean fingers together nervously. Roger looked down at his own grubby hands and grunted.

His eyes caught on the elf boy’s uniform. Soft purple. Like a sterile dream you could fall into, so easily and so suddenly.

“Do you need help finding something, sir?” cooed the elf boy. His voice was overly polite, and Roger marveled internally about how insincere it sounded to him. And yet, there was something about the way the elf was. The cleanliness. The perfect lines and the way that his shirt tucked into his pants with a very straight hem. Roger looked down. The elf had very shiny shoes on.

“Milk-” he blurted, then cleared his throat. “I need milk.” he repeated, more evenly, regaining his composure. His eyes had become fixated on those incredibly clean shoes. The patent leather was so well polished that he could see his face staring down into the reflective surface. He needed a shave. Instinctively, his hand lept up and grazed the rough stubble on his chin and jawline. It had been awhile since he’d had a shave. Or a shower.

“Of course sir! I’m so happy to help!” The elf boy broke Roger’s focus with a cheerful little jump. And then he took off in the other direction. He had an incredibly quick, playful little jaunt, and Roger struggled to keep up with him as he bounded through aisles.
They arrived at a section of refrigerated dairy. Cheeses, whipped creams, butters, and milk. Milk.

“Great, thank you.” replied Roger. He reached blindly for the first carton he saw, something low fat or something. He just needed milk. Any milk. It didn’t matter.

The elf boy was still standing there, watching. And as Roger closed his hand around the nearest carton, the boy made a sound.

Roger was startled at first. The sound was uncharacteristic of the positive emblem of salesmanship and customer service that wore this tight purple polo shirt. This was a sound of judgement, a bit like a hiss, or maybe a scoff. He looked up, surprised, frozen with his fingers wrapped around the milk.

“What?” he asked the little purple boy.

“Well, you could get that regular milk,” he rubbed his perfectly hairless chin. A devious smile spread across his face. “Or, you could go for something a little more exciting.”

“More exciting?” Roger straightened up and let go of the milk. He didn’t know milk got more exciting.

“We just got this in, it’s part of a new line from DairyGrand Farms. It’s like boutique milk, very special.” The boy pulled a carton from the shelf and handed it to Roger.

Roger examined it closely. It was a standard milk carton, except… cleaner. It had gold embossing all around the edges, and the heavy cardboard seemed to shine brilliantly, more like porcelain than paper or wax. He read the title.

“DairyGrand Enhanced Adventure Milk?” he vocalized. The elf boy nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, but there are others too, if Adventure isn’t your thing. There’s Success Milk, and Beauty Milk, and-” the elf boy pointed out a few more varieties, each sitting on the shelf bearing similar gold embossing around their glossy corners.

“I like Adventure.” Roger cut him off. He studied the back of the carton, which featured pictures of warriors running, bearing sharp swords and sturdy shields, fighting dragons and opposing armies. He tried to picture himself with a sword, but found it difficult. Underneath the warrior’s shiny bodies he read a slogan: enhance your life.

“And today only, they’re all half off!” tittered the elf boy. Roger glanced at the price tag and balked slightly.

“I don’t know, it still seems like a lot for milk…” he hesitated.

“But,” the boy leaned closer. So much closer. He almost whispered in Roger’s ear. His voice was soft and sweet like a field of clover on a spring day. “Don’t you want to enhance your life, you sad sack of shit?”

“What?” said Roger. He looked up sharply, but the boy’s face was soft and kind in appearance.

“I said, don’t you want to enhance your life?”

Roger clutched his milk and cereal close to his chest the entire walk home.

That evening, at his apartment, Roger sat down at the kitchen table and poured his FUNKY HEALTHY BLUEBERRY CHOCOLATE cereal into a plastic bowl. He opened his DairyGrand Enhanced Adventure milk and poured it over the top. He took one last look at the warriors, poised to fight their enemy.

Sitting down at the table, Roger dipped his spoon into the cereal. As he drew it upwards towards his lips he dreamt about a life of adventure and all the things he’d do. He pictured himself in armor, and with a sword, even though it was difficult to imagine. Soon it would all be true, he thought to himself. Roger felt better than he had in a long time.

He took a bite and nothing happened. Another bite. Still nothing. He felt no different. Soon, he’d finished the bowl. He ate another. Nothing.

Everything was the same.

Roger stared at the wall of his apartment. The sun set outside, and then it was dark. The shadows crawled across his wall, like they did most nights. They formed fearsome shapes, dragons and opposing armies.

He made himself another bowl of cereal, but nothing changed.

It was all the same.

All the same.

 

 

 

Author: Ellery pridgen

Ellery Pridgen is a 19 year old undergraduate student in the english department at Western Washington University. Her work has been featured in The White Wall Review, Unstamatic Magazine, Prometheus Dreaming, and Coffin Bell Journal. In her free time, she enjoys painting, reciting her poetry, and reading novels about people with exciting lives.

 

artist: Jaina Cipriano

Jaina Cipriano is a multimedia artist, creating visual metaphors for emotions she has trouble defining. She builds lavish and dramatic performance spaces and captures them with photographs. Her photographic work can be seen in GRLSQUASH, Gastronomica and will be shown at the Griffin Museum of Photography summer 2020. Jaina’s written work has been published in Mud Magazine. She also recently wrote and directed the short film “You Don’t Have to Take Orders from the Moon.” All of Jaina’s work takes the shape of a dream you wake up already forgetting, tasting only the vivid edges while the center dissolves.