The thing about hiding out in a supermarket whilst the world outside goes to hell is it all starts amicably. You get to know each other as you eat and drink like there’s no tomorrow because there probably isn’t.
But as the days and weeks drag on, you need to conserve supplies. You could be in there for months. Years.
Then comes the mistrust and hoarding. The accusations of theft. You’re drawing straws for who “rules” each of the aisles. If you’re lucky, you pick the confectionary, canned goods or, please God, the alcohol aisle.
I inadvertently chose cleaning products.