"I was prepared to listen to her advice about the cheese,
but why was she dressed as Joan of Arc?..."
"Oh, it's a Halloween thing." Stephen answered, without
actually answering "And don't listen to her about the
cheese, she really doesn't know what she's talking about."
The thoughts about the cheese have been pushed right out of
my head. "Halloween? Is it that time of year again? Oh, god,
it'll be Christmas next..."
"Excuse me..." A small squeaky voice with a rood tone,
belonging to a small, squeaky rood woman behind us.
"You're excused" I answered in a non caring voice, picking
up a random bread loaf and continuing my trail of thought.
"But why is she dressed like that in a supermarket?"
Stephen shrugged. I suppose it makes sense to him.
"I wonder, what I should dress up as?" Stephen threw the
question in the air, while we walked by canned-fruits
section. He wasn't really expecting an answer. And even if
he was, I was to busy trying to remember what I wrote on the
shopping list (which, obviously, I forgot on the kitchen
table).
Somewhere in the vegetables section (I remembered I wanted
lettuce) he said "God!"
"Where?" I asked, being thrown for a second.
"Me!" He answered.
"What?" I didn't understand. My mind was on finding the
lettuce, and if I even need some.
"Me! I'll be God for Halloween" He seemed ecstatic about the
idea. I couldn't care less.
"Was there any lettuce on the list?" I asked, going back to
my original trail of thought.

I'm 21, Stephen's 22. We just moved in together to a little
crummy flat in a little crummy building in the middle of a
long and crummy street.
We were planning on having a house welcoming shower-thing,
but in the rate the shopping's going it will probably end up
being a few friends sitting in the local pub.
I couldn't bring myself to care very much now. I was more
caught up between being happy about being with Stephen in
our own privet space and the over-priced lettuce.

For the first time of my life, I was happy where I was. Not
overwhelmed, over-the-rooftops,
can't-stop-screaming-from-happiness, but happy happy. With
its ups and downs. Lettuce prices - dish washing - working -
studying - throwing out the rubbish kind of happy. Life.

Stephen started getting bored with "all this money-spending
techniques" as he put it, so I sent him to find a good wine
(which for him means- pick up a random nice-looking, cheap
bottle) and to get some more beer.

As he went down the aisle, bumping into people, I thought of
how much I loved him. How much I loved my life. I couldn't
believe myself. This is all that I despised when growing up.
The predictable, stable, boring- like, simple life.
I used to think that there must be something else out there,
for me. I guess that's what growing up means. Suddenly, I
wasn't looking for the grand or outrageous life. I just
wanted my little niche, my place in this over-whelming
world. Someone I know will be there tomorrow morning. The
soothing sensation of a planed- ahead day, week, year.
Stability of the middle- lower- class in all its beauty,
with the same lower class humour and action.
Isn't that the meaning of life?
Stability. The knowledge that one can predict what will
happen tomorrow. That tomorrow will, actually, arrive; In
all it's stable glory.
I used to patronise people like me. Waiting in line for the
cash machine. A boyfriend, a flat, a 4 till 10 job, on the
way for university degree, on the way to the all-boring,
mediocre American-dream (Four bedroom house, two children, a
back garden, Sunday afternoon in front of a cricket game.).
Now I'm one of these people; Or at least on the way to be.
Now I patronise people like what I used to be. People who
think that they are better than me, just because they
believe I am unhappy.

I'm not unhappy.
The rocking boat effect of the outrageous life style has
left me sea-sick of it. I rather live on stable ground.
Thinking this all the way to the cash registers, it was only
when I was fishing in my pockets for some more money did it
sink; I'm truly happy.
Stephen arrived from nowhere in time to pay for the beers,
"What's with the smile?" He asked.
"Nothing" I answered, continuing to smile.
"Have you smoked my joint?"
I just laughed and walked away. He came after me, catching
up; taking a few bags off me, and heading towards the car.
I stopped for a second, watching him, smiling with peaceful
bliss.
I saw the bus coming in the corner of my eye. It all
happened so fast, but I saw it all. Shot by shot I saw the
bus coming into view, not slowing down, and Stephen not
noticing it. And all that obviously happened after.
In those seconds, before realizing what happened, before the
shock, before denial, anger and sorrow; but just after
understanding I thought,
"So much for bloody stability"

[את הסיפור הייתי אמורה לשלוח לתחרות כתיבה [את השורה הראשונה
הם נתנו לי], אבל פספסתי את המועד האחרון]