Struggling to find the keys to his home, Ishigaki fumbled around in his pockets, nearly dropping the grocery bags in his arms a few times as he searched for them. By the time he'd found them deep in his front left pocket, his arms had started to hurt from the weight of the shopping bags bearing down on him. He shifted them higher up his arms before attempting to unlock the front door, his key easily gliding into place. With every single bag of groceries hanging from his arms—he'd be damned if he had to make more than one trip—he shuffled his way through the open entrance.
"I'm home," he called out, hearing his faint echo as it bounced off the walls.
After closing the door behind him and removing his shoes, Ishigaki made his way to the kitchen where he was finally able to rest the shopping bags on the counter. The muscles in his arms ached as he stretched them, getting rid of the stiffness that had accumulated in them. Now all that was left to do was begin the tedious process of putting everything into its proper place.
Starting with the pantry, Ishigaki stacked boxes of simple meals in one corner and cans of processed foods in another, making sure each label was facing outward so he could easily identify them later. There was an overwhelming amount of canned vegetables near the back of his pantry, towering over the rest of his supplies. It had accumulated over the weeks, having not been touched; he'd have to sort through them later so he could get rid of any that had expired sooner than he'd expected.
After the pantry had been organized, Ishigaki got to work on putting away the refrigerated items he had bought. Milk, juice, and any other liquids went in the door, replacing any empty or near empty cartons that he'd need to finish drinking that day. Eggs went into their proper holders, filling up the spaces until a dozen had been accounted for. Fresh fruit, something he always made sure he had enough room in his fridge for, went on the largest shelf. Throughout the week, he'd rummage through them all to nibble on the ones he liked while saving the others until they went bad.
"All that's left to put away is this," he said quietly to himself, picking up the heavy package of sodas.
Before placing all of them in the fridge, he picked one up in his hands. Glancing at the familiar labels, he studied every aspect of the design. It was a soft drink he didn't even like, but he knew the brand by heart. After all, it had started to take up the majority of his fridge since nobody was around to drink it.
With a shuddering breath, Ishigaki could feel a few tears slip past his heavy eyelids. Wiping them away with the back of his sleeve, he stuffed the soda onto the third shelf of his fridge—the second shelf already full of the drink—before closing it entirely.
"It's okay," he whispered quietly to himself, images of a figure walking out on him flashing through his mind. "I just have to stay patient."