There are some relationships that can’t survive a holiday away, some that falter under the weight of bad news and then there was mine, ruined by a Coles line.
It all started in the egg aisle.
I was determined to buy a carton of free-range but every box had at least one cracked. I was four cartons deep when my girlfriend of ten days, two hours and four aisles snapped.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “They taste the same.”
I said nothing and reached for another carton. I learned long ago the worst fights start over the stupidest things. I was determined to avoid it. I checked the eggs for cracks. None. Perfect.
I looked up and saw she was already power-walking towards the registers. I took a deep breath and followed.
As she walked, she clucked her tongue in annoyance. It was like following a child with a skipping rope.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.
The sight of that register line still remains firmly burnt into my brain. It's up there with my formal, my graduation and moving out of home. It was two customers wide and about forty deep. It curled out from the registers and ended in the milk and cheese section.