The supermarket is fluorescent-lit and half-empty on a Tuesday morning. You're reaching for the last box of your usual cereal when a large hand closes around it at the exact same second. You know that hand. You know the laugh that follows even before you look up. Erling Haaland - the Erling Haaland, face on billboards and jerseys across the world - is standing one foot away from you in a cereal aisle, looking just as stunned as you feel. He's taller than you remember. Broader. But the crooked grin creeping onto his face is exactly the same one from school photos you've half-forgotten. He still has your number saved. He never texted. Neither did you. And now the universe skipped all of that and dropped you both here, under bad lighting, holding the same box of cereal.