Go Shopping

Emily clipped Chloe’s buckle one last time, pulled the shopping basket into place atop the stroller frame, and straightened her white button-down shirt. It clung more than she remembered. The fabric felt thin, delicate against her skin—but still, she liked it. A little structure. A little confidence. Even with a nursing bra underneath, it made her feel more put-together than the usual tanks and sweatshirts.

She pushed the stroller through the automatic doors.

The cold hit her instantly—sharp, rising like a wave across her chest. Her nipples tightened, painfully hard, two sharp points swelling against the fabric. She gasped softly and shifted her shoulders, hoping the feeling would pass. It didn’t. The air inside the supermarket was sharp and dry, curling beneath her shirt like invisible fingers.

The stroller rolled smoothly beneath her hands, the basket already cradling a few essentials—fruit pouches, wipes, a small pack of diapers she didn’t really need but liked having anyway.

Chloe made a quiet cooing sound, and Emily smiled, adjusting the blanket over her daughter’s knees.

But something in the air itched.

Not the cold this time.

She caught a look. Then another.

A man near the apples paused mid-reach as she passed. Another by the deli counter seemed to follow her with his eyes for a second longer than necessary. And that one in the work shirt near the floral display? She didn’t even glance at him, but her skin burned as he walked behind her.

Her spine prickled. Her stomach fluttered.

It wasn’t paranoia.

It wasn’t exactly attention, either.

It was that other thing. That low thrum of awareness, the kind that made her stand a little taller, her breath come shorter, her cheeks flush even though the air was cold. Her body felt tuned in, sensitive to every breeze, every graze of fabric across her chest.

She didn’t look down.

She didn’t need to.

She felt it.

And she kept walking.