A BRIEF EXCHANGE AT THE BOTTLESHOP

by Ross Sharp

Having made my selection, I take my wine to the counter.

“Will that be all today?”, I am asked by the darkly attractive, slim-hipped young woman in attendance.

“Yes, thanks.”

“Nine-ninety, thank you”, and I hand over my money and receive my change.

“Would you like a bhaarg with that?”, she inquires.

“Sorry … ?”

“A bhaaarg?”

“What … ?”

Bhaaaaarg?”

“I … “

And she points at a pile of plastic carry bags near the register.

I stare, briefly dumbfounded.

“Uh … No … Thanks”, I mumble, and I take my bottle and I take my leave, and as I wander the few blocks back to my home, I find myself wondering, “Is it me?”

For I did not know a “bag” had become a “bharg”.

But now I do.

Here endeth the lesson.

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