He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Melissa hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked wooden in this light. The streets were crowded for twelve o'clock on a Tuesday. He watched a Firebird swerve to avoid a covered wagon as it struggled by. What a barbarian, he thought. Across the street an entertainer wearing a visor came out of a music store. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a clothing store to pick up a bag of groceries. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the nail salon and pay Mitch 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 violet. There might be a storm brewing, he thought excitedly. He walked past an angelic man carrying an old jar of olives. 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 Rwanda or Nepal, meeting glamorous and selfish people, pulling out his stash of bribe money and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the nail salon a bit late...
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