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.

“Four-ten,” stated the clerk in what was clearly a South African accent.

“Cheers mate,” Eric replied in his flat American accent, handing the man his money and heading back into the darkened street.

Whatever the weather Eric always tried to enjoy his walk home.

It was his time of solitude and reflection.

He didn’t have to think about his experiments or deal with his flatmates, it was just him, and his thoughts.