On Sunday I went to a place that serves Brazilian food.
The guy behind the counter said, “What can I get you, my friend?”
I asked what he recommended.
He said, “We have many good things, my friend.”
I asked what most people ordered.
He said, “The chicken and rice, my friend.”
I stared at him, wondering how we had grown so close so fast.
“I’ll take the chicken and rice,” I said.
He entered it in the register.
“That will be eight dollars, my friend.”
I started to take my wallet from my pocket but stopped.
“Eight dollars?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “Is that a problem?”
“Yes,” I said, staring him in the eye. “I thought we were friends.”
He didn’t smile. He didn’t react.
As I paid him, I felt compelled to add one more thing.
“You’ve put a great strain on our relationship.”