DIE FORM DES VERSÄUMTEN: Forgetting why you came to the store

Standing between the shelves, my basket already half full, my hand suddenly reaches into emptiness. The list – forgotten. The reason – vanished. I look at other faces, as if someone might tell me what I need. Maybe it’s milk. Maybe it’s a voice I haven’t heard in years. Or maybe just the simple touch that nothing can replace. I stand still, as if everything depends on this moment.