The prompt from Reddit:
In a daze, she pulls a cart from the tangled lot, and metal crashes down as it breaks free. Slowly walking into the store, she leans on her elbows, and the empty cart wheelies under her weight. She wonders why she bothered grabbing one at all. There’s no need for it. Maybe it’s habit.
Maybe it’s the weight of the moment.
With a spinning front wheel as her guide, she passes down the aisles. The search is a charade. Though no one watches, she feels as though the whole world fixates on her movement. In her pocket, her phone buzzes with the arrival of another text. The message is left unread. She knows it’s from her best friend. She knows what it probably says.
omg when? or Do you know who the father is?
She turns the cart down the only aisle that holds what she came for. The selection is overwhelming, and she wonders, does it even matter which one? She makes three indiscriminate choices, and the pregnancy tests fall into the empty cart. Inside their metal cage, they look just as she feels: trapped.
She leaves the aisle and heads toward checkout. She sees the lines, the people waiting. The reality of it all freezes her in place. An overwhelming urge comes to her, one of filling her cart with random items in attempt to cover her fate.
In her pocket, her phone buzzes with another message. She doesn’t reach for it. Like the waiting pregnancy tests, she already knows what it’s going to say.