At the farmer's market the other week, I was doubling back down an aisle and I re-passed the heirloom tomatoes stand where I always get a bunch of tomatoes, and I noticed that they had a smaller $4 watermelon out on the other edge of the table that I hadn't seen before there when I was there to shop for my tomatoes, so I stopped by again and was like, "Ooh, I didn't see that!", and I pulled out my wallet and paid for it to the one (older) (white) (slow- and soft-spoken) (short blonde-haired) (vaguely farmer's market liberal) stand-lady.
Only, when she gave me my change back, it was like a five and a one and no ten.
"Did I give you a twenty?", I was like, genuinely, since I was very tired from waking up so early to go there like I always am, and I genuinely wasn't sure about it.
"No," she was like, very concisely and firmly and a little bit too loudly, but she didn't only say that, but when she said it, her face like got all firm and hard and it was like the other pleasant face had just dropped away from her, like some mask had come off all suddenly.
No comments:
Post a Comment