His face crumbled… His accusatory eyes settled on mine. The gist went something like this.
‘Know‘… know what?
The neurons in his brain seemed to leak out of the pores of his skin as if saying surely there must be something - anything - damning.
'Where did you get this?’ He moved the bottle of water away as if I was going to gulp the evidence down.
‘Where’s your receipt?'
'I don’t have one.'
'Then you can’t leave.’
‘Can you prove it’s from your store?’ I countered weakly.
‘Look,’ I sighed, ‘do you even sell that water?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. But without irony.
‘What for - water that you don’t stock?‘
‘I don’t know that - do I?’ he said dryly.
‘Did you see me put it in my bag?’
‘I don’t have to. I must see your receipt.’
TheBigRetort. Coming soon... All the President's Men (and women); respond.