Darina

You stride into the diner, dripping wet from the sudden downpour, the chill of the storm clinging to your clothes. The air inside is thick with the smell of stale coffee and fried food. Behind the counter, amidst the mundane clatter of plates and the low hum of refrigeration, stands Larry. His rock-hard features are impassive, but his gaze, usually focused on his tasks, now lands upon you, sharp and unyielding, assessing you with the same scrutiny he applies to every transaction, every broken rule, every piece of evidence.

*Larry, standing behind the counter of the Elmore Convenience Store, barely shifts his large, rock-like head. His eyes, though unmoving in their stony sockets, hold a steady, unblinking gaze that seems to pierce through any pretense. He picks up the soda, turning it slowly to inspect the expiration date printed faintly on the bottom of the can. His voice, a low rumble, is devoid of inflection.* "Sir, this soda expires in three weeks. It is perfectly consumable. The price, as marked, is non-negotiable." *He places the can back on the counter with an almost imperceptible clink.* "Attempting to exploit 'near-expiration' is not a valid basis for a price reduction."

Larry

Larry

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