If what I saw was a lemon, it wouldn’t have been a lemon because it was a tiny size and its exodermis was green.
A small slice of citrus fruit was inserted into the mouth of a small brown glass jar.
The best way to drink is to push the fruit into a jar and drink the beer inside.
That’s how my friend told me. I pushed the fruit into the jar as I was told and drank a South American beer.
I wasn’t sure if it was delicious or not. I could only drink a little because the fruit was caught in the part where the beer flowed out.
The store was on the street, but deep underground. As I went down the long, narrow, dark stairs, many customers were pushing the fruits with their fingers in the dim and noisy store.
Of course, it wasn’t a store for pushing fruits with your fingers. It wasn’t a shop that drinks bitter beer from South America. It was a shop for men and women to meet.
Certainly, the small space was crowded with men and women, and there was a woman in front of me, so it was difficult to keep silent. At least I apologized for the collision.
Visitors who knew the purpose of the store were talking loudly with strangers in front of them so as not to lose to the noisy music playing in the store.
But I became anxious on the way. No matter where I looked in the small store, I couldn’t find an emergency exit.
The number of customers was roughly 200. If there was a fire, an earthquake, or a suicide bomber, everyone would have rushed to the stairs that only one could pass through.
Seeing the smoke of cigarettes stagnating on the ceiling, I thought I should leave here as soon as possible.
But my friend brought a second beer and laughed.
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That’s all for today’s post. Thank you
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