McMahons Point. Morning. A severely jet-lagged doctor enters a small food mart in search of spaghetti. He addresses himself to the (at the outset agreeable) shop assistant, who has a ring through the septum of her nose to prove that she is an individual.
SHOP ASSISTANT (pointing to a packet). Here, this is very good – and it’s gluten-free.
DOCTOR. You don’t have any with gluten, do you?
SHOP ASSISTANT (scowling as she roots around in a bottom shelf). Here.