It made me so happy. That tingly goodness. Orange, grapefruit, cranberry. It provided me comfort and quenched my thirst. Bubly was it's name, and it was good.
"That'll be 87 cents," they always said.
"Great! Here's a dollar. Keep the change!" I usually gave that thirteen cents with a wink that was free of charge.
It was good. It was so very good.
There were signs, literally signs posted everywhere, that warned me what was to come. "For the first time in twelve years" they said in the blackest of ink. But it didn't seem real. I was in my bubbly haze.
"Keep the change!"
"Actually, you owe nine more cents. Prices went up. A can is one-oh-nine." The tone was sympathetic, but the cash register was nonchalant.
"I guess I'll have to break a twenty," I said.
"Well, I guess you tipped me yesterday. We got this one." And she reached into the tip cup.
And just like that, I paid the same price I always do.
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