Excerpt of Chasing Rainbows by Kathleen Long

Poindexter and I had eaten every carbohydrate in the house by the next afternoon.

There are those who might think the massive upheaval of my life combined with empty cupboards presented the chance to fully reinvent myself, starting with my grocery shopping and eating habits.

I could work up a week-long menu balancing each day's consumption in an effort to increase energy, improve health, and decrease thigh girth.

I could shop smart, eat smart and reap the benefits. Or, I could eat junk food.

Five minutes later, I pulled into the Walgreen's parking lot. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day.

I didn't notice my footwear faux pas--one spotted slipper and one clog--until I'd shuffled halfway down the cosmetic aisle.

Was my life in such disarray I could no longer select matching footwear?

Apparently, yes.

I lifted my focus from my fashion-challenged footwear to the activity buzzing around me. Fellow shoppers chattered and browsed, scanned and purchased. They walked and talked at hyper-speed, self-contained bursts of energy and purpose.

The blur of faces and voices dizzied me, and I fought the urge to tap someone on the shoulder.

"Yes?" the perfect stranger would reply.

"My father died," I'd explain.

The stranger's brows would crumple. She'd cluck her tongue sympathetically and pat my shoulder, nodding to a passerby.

"Her father died," she'd say, and the new stranger would mutter comforting words, cluck her tongue and stop yet someone else.

I imagined things would continue on this way until clucking and patting strangers surrounded me. For the first time in days, I felt loved and comforted, wrapped in the imaginary embrace of countless Walgreen's shoppers.

Just imagine what would happen if I tossed in Ryan's desertion on top of everything else. Hell, the manager would probably make an announcement over the public address system.

Dumped mourner on aisle six. Please stop by on your way to the register to cluck and pat.

"Lady." An impatient voice interrupted my mental tangent- -too close and too real to be part of my fantasy. "You're blocking the cotton balls."

I focused long enough for the woman's annoyed frown to register. So much for my imaginary world of comfort.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I sidestepped toward facial creams. I grabbed a pore-reducing mask then headed for the candy aisle. After all, I might be in shock, but I wasn't stupid.