"Are you policewomen?" I ask.
"Meter maids," one of them replies.
"You should get the four for twenty dollars." another says, pointing to the pound of coffee I picked up to take to Hubs' uncle in Maine. "It's a much better deal."
Hmm, I think, maybe a pound of this here hazelnut will make that parking ticket disappear. I glance at the maids (or wait, isn't it matrons?). Black coffees, all around. They won't go for it. Next time, I think I'll grab the dark roast.
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