He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Kyra hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked old in this light. The streets were crowded for seven o'clock on a Thursday. He watched a school bus swerve to avoid a bicycle as it dove by. What a jerk, he thought. Across the street a clown wearing a pair of galoshes came out of a flower shop. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a tattoo parlor to pick up a comb. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the convenience store and pay Phillip 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 forest green. There might be a storm brewing, he thought narrowly. He walked past a bedraggled man carrying a smelly bagpipe. 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 Guatemala or Afghanistan, meeting glamorous and shiftless people, pulling out his battle axe and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the convenience store a bit late...
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