The shebeen was full of raucous people having a great old time. But Satha noticed that his friend Muthu didn't look too happy. The old man had come into the shebeen a few minutes ago and simply plopped down in a chair. He had taken his first drink in one gulp and was now staring at his empty glass like a zombie. That wasn't like Muthu, ruminated Satha, not like Muthu at all. Satha's bleary eyes focussed glassily on his friend and he asked him why he was looking so depressed.
Padayachee, Deena, The finishing Touch, Kunapipi, 13(1), 1991.