Every few weeks, Holly made the trip to Kroger, to stock up on basics and fresh herbs, but most times, she popped into the hotspot to pick up a few things here and there. Painfully conscious of her man-sized sweats, and what they implied, she parked at the curb and went into the market in hopes they had ground beef for the dinner she’d promised Michael. If they didn’t, she’d already decided she’d traipse across the entire state to get the fixings for the lasagna she’d told him she’d make. There was a teenage girl behind the register, cracking her gum and flipping through a magazine. She didn’t acknowledge the chime above the door, or Holly’s entrance. That was fine. Holly picked up a basket and went hunting. She found the beef she needed in the cooler in back, and then she picked up a few other things: bagged lettuce at the deli for a salad, a cheap bottle of white wine, a bottle of Jack, since she didn’t have any at home, a bag of flour for the cookies she planned to make.
