Another fabulous guest post from Sharon Wray!
I checked my watch and bit the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood. I was late and my arms hurt from holding two bakery boxes of muffins and a half-gallon of orange juice.
All of the self-checkout lanes were getting their yearly computer upgrades and I was in the “10 items and under” lane which had a short conveyor belt I couldn’t reach yet. So I kept my gaze on a nearby flyer. White paper with black letters that had two words.
“But these are sweet potatoes,” the soft-spoken cashier said. “They are the same thing.”
“Yams are not sweet potatoes,” said the woman I’d…
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