Black Backpack by the Yogurt Near Mrs. Patel’s Door

Black Backpack by the Yogurt Near Mrs. Patel’s Door

I was in our grocery store but it was also the hallway of my old apartment building. I kept trying to find the dairy aisle because I needed milk, except every time I turned a corner I ended up at Mrs. Patel’s door from 3B. Someone had left a black backpack on the floor by the yogurt. I picked it up thinking it was mine from work, but inside there was a phone that kept buzzing with texts I couldn’t quite read, and a set of keys that looked like ours except the fob was the wrong color. A guy in a security vest asked if I’d seen who dropped it. He sounded like my coworker Dan and also like my cousin. I said no, but I felt like I’d already been questioned. I tried to put the bag back and my hands wouldn’t let go. The store lights flickered like they do when we’re closing, and I was late for something I couldn’t name. I woke up still checking my pockets for those keys.