He looked like a guy in his forties. Dark-skinned, receding hairline and a scruffy beard. He's standing at the window of my shop, searching for my face. And when he finally spots me in the corner, he leans in even closer, as if he wants to tell me a secret. I signal him to go ahead with his request, and he looks uncomfortable. He shifts his weight to his left foot and firmly grips the window frames. This time, he looks around the inside of the shop, his eyes scanning up and down, hopeful. He speaks, finally. Says he is looking for paper bags, but according to him, from the look of it, we don’t have the kind he is looking for. I point to the section with paper bags of all sizes, and ask him to take his pick....

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