The Favour

He opened the fridge to get the milk. Time for a brew. 

—Bollocks. No milk. 

He sighed and push his feet into his trainers. He’d have to go to the shop. Off he went . Along Whitechapel Road. Not far.

He went into the One Stop. Made for the fridges. Two litres? Or one? One would do. There was only him. He went to the counter to pay. Raj was serving. 

—Hiya Baz.

—Alright, Raj. 

—D’yer mind me askin’ a favour? 

—Fire away, mate. 

—Me daughter, Maya. She’s gettin’ bother on the way home—

—Lads? 

—Yeah. 

—No problem. I’ll sort it.