There, on the pavement, was a torn paper bag, with most of the contents scattered about: carrots, courgettes, onions, bananas, apples, pears. I looked around. No one about, not anywhere near the bag and its scattered contents, for me to determine the ownership. So, I started to pick up each item.
A young man then came along and helped me retrieve them, even from as far away as a yard from the spot. He must’ve thought I’d dropped the bag, split it, and spilt the contents. (Oh, split and spilt in the same sentence, fairly close to each other! That would drive a dyslexic or spoonerism-afflicted person crazy.)
Luckily, I hadn’t stayed for a post-shift drink at the pub, or he’d jump to another wrong conclusion: that I’d dropped the bag because I was tipsy.
So, I arrived home at 4am, with a bagful of fruit and vegetables out of nowhere.
(London, 2018)
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