As the pills in the pestle ground down into powder, he thought about "uncle" Dimitri. He was actually a second cousin, but since coming to America with his father as young men, they'd remained close and after his folks died in the fire at the trailer park, Dimitri went to Nick and said "So keed, you want maybe come with me?".
They lived in the apartment over the restaurant. Old school even by Old Country standards, Dimitri's faith in hard work was stronger than most people's faith in God. He expected Nick to fend for himself, get good marks and help out
in the kitchen every night.
When it was time for college, though, his uncle's generosity put him through the finest pharmaceutical school in the country and helped Nick open his first store. "It's joose a loan, keed" Dimitri would say "later, you can pay me it
back, no rush...".
Ten years later, that store was a successful chain, but
the old Ouzo Inn was now serving Greek-Korean fusion and uncle Dimitri was residing in a priceless Minoan vase on the mantle in his condo.
Filling capsules with the powder, Nick counted 25 of them into a child-proof bottle, put it in a white paper bag and stapled it shut with a duplicate prescription. "There you are so, Mrs. Dubrinski" Nick whispered as he put it in the bin
by the cash register, "I make it special, for you".
*
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