There's a particular sadness to the chilled aisle in Aldi that I wasn't quite ready for today.
A whole shelf of beef with the fat taken out on purpose. 5% fat, shouted across the packaging in big blue letters as though it were an achievement. Reduced fat quarter pounders. A burger with the soul removed and the cost of the crime printed on the front.
I watched a man reach past everything decent to grab two packs of it. Felt good about himself doing it, you could tell. Off home for a week of beige, joyless dinners, certain he'd made the sensible choice.
4.4g of fat in a quarter pounder. The fear of fat, given a barcode and a use-by date.
I didn't say anything. You can't, really. You just stand there a moment, mourn quietly, and move on to the eggs.