Forty minutes later, the pair pulled up to a weathered brick building with a faded sign. They stepped inside, and the smell of fresh deli meat and floor wax hit them. Leo sprinted toward the back. And there they were: the iconic blue and yellow bags, stacked high like a crinkly, golden treasure.

"They’re ghosts, Sarah. Legend. Myth," Leo said, gesturing to the empty space where the should have been.

The fluorescent hum of the "Snack-o-Rama" was the only sound in the aisle until Leo let out a dramatic sigh.

He grabbed four bags, cradling them like newborn kittens. At the register, the clerk chuckled. "You’re the fifth person this week to drive in just for those. Guess some things are worth the detour."