Harpreet

harpreet

I was crying at the corner liquor store. I put a bottle of prosecco on the counter and Harpreet rang it through.

“$14.99,” he said.

“On card?” I asked with watery eyes.

He gestured towards the debit machine and said “Yes please.” He always says that. Tash and I always thought it was real cute.

“Receipt?”

I couldn’t squeak it out. My throat was totally closed off. I don’t know why the crying hit me then and there, but it did. My guess would be that it was the first time doing something in the world on my own. You know what I mean? Feeling like a solitary person. A half, almost. Knowing this prosecco and every prosecco forward wouldn’t be for us.

I just shook my head, “No. No receipt.” Harpreet took a look into my watery eyes, nodded “sure”  and watched me walk out.

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