Eric stepped out of the rain-soaked street and into a corner dairy. It was a long walk back to his flat and he needed something warm in his stomach, not to mention in his chilled hands, for the journey. The dairy was bright and typically cramped, the faint aroma of peppermint tea filled the air. The Indian man behind the counter was watching some strange Indian movie on his telly, the kind where the actors danced and sang for no apparent reason. The clerk briefly glanced up at him in greeting, Eric nodded in return. After filling a paper cup with hot water he picked out a newspaper, there was only one copy left, and went to the counter. Eric always enjoyed the odd looks he got when he bought a newspaper at ten at night. But the Indian clerk said nothing and showed no interest in his odd selection.
Original Research Scene 23
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