“How much is this one?”

The shopkeeper peered over the rims of her rimless  glasses and closed her book, marking her page with a pen. She jumped off her stool, which scraped slightly on the gritty tiles, opened the hatch, and shuffled over to the reddish looking man hunched over the rack.

“That’s five dinar.”

The man looked at it, shook it up and down a couple of times as if to check its weight, and looked back at the shopkeeper. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, it says right there.” She turned it over in his hand to reveal, quite clearly, the five dinar sticker. “See, five dinar.”

The man looked a little confused. He blinked hard, sniffed twice the incense-infused air, and put it back on the rack. “What about that one?” He pointed.

“Yes, that one is also five dinar. It’s the same.”

“Are you sure?” He asked.