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Weekly Contest #99
“Fourteen.” The aboriginal looked at me, aware of my turmoil. He looked at the sun, which had all but disappeared in the desert. Overhead, stars were visible. My previous offer had already been below any reasonable price. At sixteen apiece, I might just make a few bucks, or I might not, depending on transport, breakage, and whatnot. Fourteen was less even than I had paid, and Paul knew that, must know that. “You know I can’t do that, Paul. I have to make a living, you know. Fourteen is less than I am paying. I really can’t do that....
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