is this romaine?
i nod.
she looks over helplessly at the bagger, the code for romaine not memorized yet.
a number suddenly appears in my head. "4640?"
the bagger, an older lady, nods and smiles.
"twenty one years and it's still in there," i smile ruefully.
okay. what about bananas? the bagger asks me.
i don't even have to think. i'm twenty years old, standing behind the till back home, keying in codes. i instinctively feel the motion of my hand before i even start to say the number.
"4011."