Mehrdad’s Fruit and Vegetables

His store is vortex of scents and flavors, a virtual explosion of citrus and cumin, coriander, and cloves, a culinary treasure chest, and as the automatic doors swoosh shut, the grey bearded Persian lowers his paper, gets up from his chair behind the counter, smiles.
“Ah! Mister Thomas,” he says, head slightly tilted. “What can I do for you today?”
“A pound of chickpeas, garlic, tahini, a small habanero and a few lemons, please.”
“Making hummus?”
"Yes."
“Showing off to a girlfriend?”
“Just felt like cooking something,” I say.
“Sure,” he says, sotto voce, one eyebrow askew. Old and wise.