The loaf of bread—called walnut batard—dared her, challenged her. Buy me. Have the bakery employee slice me. Ask him to put me in a clear plastic bag. No, no. You cost $8. I love breads with lots of walnuts, but I can’t afford you. It doesn’t matter if you can’t afford me, if I’m on the expensive side. Come on. Do it. I know you won’t regret it. She turned her back on the bread, on all the breads on display. It is awful not to be able to buy what you want. It is awful not to have money.