He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Denise hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked gruesome in this light. The streets were crowded for eight o'clock on a Thursday. He watched an Abrams M1 tank swerve to avoid a U-Haul as it skittered by. What a dingleberry, he thought. Across the street a physicist wearing a pair of cycling shorts came out of a novelty shop. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a supermarket to pick up an orange. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the ice cream parlor and pay Samuel a visit. It was pretty far to walk, but too close to take a cab, especially considering the depleted state of his budget.
The sky had a tinge of lavender. There might be a storm brewing, he thought languidly. He walked past a wizened man carrying a damp piggy bank. A bit unusual, but it probably meant nothing. As he walked, he felt other people staring at him. He glanced at the faces. If they knew he was a detective, they'd probably think he leads an exciting life, jetting to Italy or Vietnam, meeting glamorous and sarcastic people, pulling out his hand sanitizer and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the ice cream parlor a bit late...
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