Half Hunger

Just yesterday, after writing Three Wishes, I go out for dinner on my way home.
And a bit disappointing, my food of choice already out, I choose remaining menu just for filling my empty stomach.

After finishing my food, I go to cashier to pay, with still half hunger creeping me.

Me: “How much?”

Seller: “Twelve and five hundred.”

I give him twenty thousand.

Seller: “You have five hundred more,” his want to give me eight thousand for change.

Me: “Here you go.”

Seller: “Sorry it is like I can’t give you round change,” he give me back eight thousand.

Me: “But my exchange is seven and five hundred, you give me five hundred more,” I little bit confuse.

Seller: “But it is your money, man.”

A moment thinking, I’m really embarrassed. Of course it is my money. Can you do math, I talked to my self.

After thanking to the seller, I quickly go fast enough before my face become red and I laugh to my self on my way home.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Isn’t Your Face Red.”


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