Peter stood in the aisle, almost frozen. On his screen was a photo of Grace's purple tampon box. Her fingers holding it to the camera. There was something about the shape of her fingers that he loved.
In front of him, in full view of all the shoppers passing him, was a wall of coloured products he did not know existed.
Sure, he knew when Grace was on her period. Knew her tampons lived in her drawer in the bathroom, knew when she wasn't in the mood for sex because of her period, but definitively didn't know there was such variety.
He'd been shopping before, been down this very aisle hundreds of times. On the left was the paracetamol and cough lollies. Then some sex stuff. On the other side nappies. It was as if his mind blanked out what was on this section.
Peter reached out for a purple box. It wasn't the same shade, and there were yellow flowers on this one.
Two young boys turned into the aisle. There was a moment of recognition between the boys and the adult male. A tiny moment of mutual acknowledgement that neither should be here.
The dirty blonde one, skinny and cunning like a rat, sauntered up to where the lubes were. The rag-doll looking redhead moved up next to him in a coordinated move.
Peter looked up to the security camera and realised the taller one was blocking the view of whoever might watch the feed in aisle 11.
Peter counted five tubes of lube get stuffed into the boy’s coat pockets.
Ratboy then moved next to Peter, grabbed the box of tampons, inspected it back and front.
When he laughed, his two front teeth protruded and Peter could see the boy hadn't brushed his teeth in weeks.
He dropped the purple box on the ground and reached down to another group of purple boxes. Peter felt the heft of this box in his hand and immediately recognised it as the brand Grace used.