Twelve donuts⁴³

After I left the bookstore, I went to a donut store and ordered a dozen. I could not tell whether the person behind the counter was a man or a woman. The voice was like a man’s, but the hair and everything was like a woman’s.

When I asked for a dozen, he or she couldn’t understand me. So I said, “Twelve.”

Then the worker started putting the donuts in a brown paper bag. Another worker came over and said, “No, put them in a box.” So he started putting them in a box.

Then a young Puerto Rican woman came and said, “Twelve? Do you know how much they cost? Fifty cents each!”

I looked at them and said, “I have the money.”

They were warning me that it was so expensive, as if I couldn’t buy twelve donuts. This store changes hands quite often. Six months ago when I went there to buy five or six donuts, the owner gave me three or four extra for free. Always when I used to go there he would pat me on the shoulder and say, “You are a nice man.” Now he is no longer there.