INT. SUPERMARKET AISLE – DAY – REALISTIC. The camera tracks steadily backward alongside the woman as she stands in the cereal aisle, her dark hair in a ponytail, brown cardigan draped over a grey tank top, gripping a cart with one hand while studying a box of cereal with the other — her brow furrowed, lips parted in disbelief. Behind her, the store pulses with activity: an older couple shuffles past with a cart, a mother pushes a stroller with two children giggling beside her, and fluorescent lights hum above like indifferent gods. After a moment, her expression cracks — she lifts her gaze to the camera, eyes wide with quiet agony, and says, “Why is everything so expensive?” — the words hang heavy in the air as her breath catches, a single tear rolls down her cheek, catching the light as she swallows hard, shoulders slumping ever so slightly under the weight of the cost, her fingers still clutching the box like it’s salvation, the cart rattling ever so faintly with her sudden stillness, the crowd moving past her like ghosts, oblivious, and she’s left alone with her grief and the blinking price tags.