Just one of those mornings

She stood at the counter, arranging a bundle of green grapes. They looked juicy and fresh, water beading on their smooth skin. Are you going to the store today, she asked in a voice that could have been used to plot murder. Perhaps, I replied, nonchalant with the newspaper in front of me. The plastic wrap stuck with a satisfying zzzztch and as if to punctuate it’s silence, she flicked her eyes up in one crisp movement. Will you get some fresh strawberries, please? She added. Only if you promise to cut them slowly. She smiled a horrible placid smile.