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The old man wandered up and down the precinct. Always with a 500ml can of beer in his hand. Always the same comforting brand.

 

He never spoke to anyone. Nobody knew where he lived. Scruffily dressed with toes peeping out of his toes he trudged up and down with his can.

 

When it was empty he would go to the middle of the pedestrian crossing and balance the can on the button push. The can had to be in exactly the right spot, exactly the right spot for the wing mirror of an HGV to knock it off.

 

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