Retracing Fluorescent Aisles for a Missing Phone

Retracing Fluorescent Aisles for a Missing Phone

I dreamed I was at the grocery store after work, same fluorescent aisles, except the checkout felt like my old high school hallway. My phone was gone from my pocket. I kept retracing the same three rows looking for it, and a neighbor I barely know kept saying someone had taken a bag from my cart. I hadn’t noticed a bag. Security asked me to wait by the doors, but the doors were the ones at my apartment building. I felt this dull, embarrassed dread, like I’d done something wrong without knowing what. A cop who looked a bit like my cousin asked if I’d seen a blue jacket. I said no. Then I was late for the bus home, walking but barely moving, still not sure if I’d been robbed or if I was the one they were looking for.