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Tony neighborhood.

Nice mellow light in the store. It glints off expensive bottles of wines. Vey pretty cutlery - flute glasses, wide whiskey ones. Stout bottles of organic ale. Packets of fresh produce like kale and rhubarb. Hunks of imported cheese wrapped in cling-film. Assortments of interesting teas - something with pink jasmines and something else with saffron. Blocks of chocolate - with a gazillion per cent cocoa and some chilli thrown in or something else with butter ...and pepper. Linguine pasta with squid ink. Linguine pasta with chilli. Packets of potato gnocci. Arboro rice. Jars of coffee powders - monsoon Malabar and arabiaca and something else that's Jamaican. Tiny implements in steel and glass for brewing tea and decocting coffee. I take something and go to the cash register.

The man looks at what I have.

"In all that we stock, you choose instant Korean noodles," his smile seems to say.

"You still stock instant Korean noodles," my smile replies.

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