Picking Up Photos

"Good morning."
"Good morning."
"Peace be upon you."
"And upon you be peace."
"How is it going?"
"Good, and you?"
"Very good. Praise be to God."

Another man comes around the counter.
"By the way, do you know Mohammed Didouche?"
"This one?" He pulls up a photo on the computer and smiles.
"Yes, that one."
"My friend."
"I work with him."

"Are my photos ready?"
"Yes." He pulls them out and sets them on the counter.
"Seven of the small ones, and twelve of the medium ones."
"They look good."
"It's one and a half dirhams for the small ones."
"Ok, very good."
"And how much are the medium-sized ones?" He looks at his co-worker. Shakes of the head. He looks at me. "How much are these?"
"I don't know." He worked there; I didn't.
"What did you pay last time? Was it 6? 7? 8?"
"I don't remember."
"10? 6?"
"I don't know." I shrugged my shoulders.
He looked at his co-worker again. More blank stares in the confused struggle to set a price for their most basic service.

"Well, you're friends with Didouche. We'll make it 6."
"Very good." I was happy with the outcome.
I paid and he returned my change.

"God help you."

"Take care of yourself."

"Take care of yourself."
"Go with peace."
"Go with peace."