In the fluorescent aisles of Ralph's, where the hum of refrigeration meets the buzz of whispered secrets,
I found them those heart-shaped sushi boxes.
Their plastic lids, transparent yet mysterious, revealed secrets only the conveyor belt knew.
Was it love or mere convenience that shaped these morsels into hearts?
Perhaps the sushi chef pondered the absurdity of existence while molding each grain of rice, each slice of salmon, into a symbol.
And there they sat, nestled together, like mismatched lovers at a masquerade, their soy sauce dipping pools reflecting the flickering fluorescence above.
Did they dream of escape, of rolling away to a distant ocean, far from Ralph's?
Or were they content in their cellophane embrace, knowing that even in this sterile aisle, they were part of something greater a fleeting metaphor for Valentine's Day, a nod to the hunger and desire that binds us?
And so, in the checkout line, I smiled, my tongue tingling with wasabi and wonder, grateful for the mundane magic of Ralph's where heart-shaped sushi danced with romance, and the world turned on its axis one soy soaked bite at a time