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25 July 2007 @ 10:34 pm
Old delinquently-posted log...  
6 July 2007:
This grocery store does not have the best produce in the world. The golden delicious apples are not so lustrous, the carrots are not something to pull in rabbits from miles away. Yet it is still a wide display, and one Cipto Rakata, his shirt brighter than most of the fruit on the shelf, wanders through slowly, taking in each variety with a long consideration and weighing any decisions far more carefully than one might think necessary for something that will only be digested anyway.

David is having some difficulty with the produce. Particularly the golden delicious apples. He is having such an intensity of difficulty that he has been forced to climb up on the display itself and from such a position, such a vantage, reach.

Upon making a careful decision with regard to pears, Cipto ties off his choice's plastic bag and turns the corner into the display of apples. Not to mention the display of apples being sought by others. His steps slow further as he nears David, and he finally stops to the other side of the display. He rests two fingers against his chin, then tilts his head forward. "Excuse me?" His speech, soft and careful, is notably accented, though not incomprehensible. "Can I help?"

“Mm?" David's head tilts without turning. Then he shakes it, once. "No, no. I've got it." His fingers close on an apple, which is promptly shoved into a plastic bag.

Cipto's pose does not alter for several seconds as he watches David's indiscriminate method of produce selection. "That is good," he finally responds once the apple is in the bag; the phrase is accompanied by a smile, which is followed by his reaching out to pick up two apples for consideration.

Another apple stuffs into the bag, but David's hand pauses as Cipto's reaches forward. "Yeah? It is good, isn't it."

"I think," Cipto begins, but the sound trails off. His lips, however, keep moving in silent rehearsal of phrases, all the while he still holds the two apples up in one hand. When he continues, his words are slower, more carefully placed. "I think it would be hard to live if I could not do things myself, even if it is good to work with people also."

As Cipto is pausing, David takes impetus to snatch more apples. "You are quite right. Who wants to live assisted? Who wants to only live assisted? Why ask help when you can climb?"

Cipto's lips press together in quiet consideration; he places one of the two apples back on the stand and continues to hold the other at a level conducive to inspection before coming up with a spoken response. "I do not think many people would want that..."

"I think some may expect us to want us. I think some want easier lives than harder lives. Who can blame them?" David raises his back, expecting the contents. Maybe counting, maybe just staring.

There's another pause, during which Cipto picks up another apple to compare to his first. "That...makes sense also...But I. Uh. I do not like to ask with words I do not know," his shoulders hunch a little on the confession. "That is harder...maybe it is not the same, though."

"I'm not following," David says, his expression tightening a confused fraction.

Cipto takes a long breath and shuts his eyes longer than a standard blink; when he speaks again, there is a hint of shame behind his accent. "I mean. I do not like to ask help either. I understand that. But I think I am not clear. I am sorry."

"Oh." David's face winkles into a small smile. "Then we have something in common. Could matters be more delightful?"

Cipto smiles in return, though it is just as small and far more uncertain. "I hope I am not in the way now," he says at length, brows raising and eyes flicking down to the current two apple candidates.

"I'll wait for you to move," David says. Pleasant!

Cipto's brows raise only further, then after a moment to turn each apple around in his hand, he opts to place both in a plastic bag and move toward the next row of produce. The "Bye," he offers as he goes is genuinely polite and free of snark, though quite quiet.

An awkward grocery store meeting between the linguistically-challenged and the vertically-challenged.