Puffy Singh woke at 2 a.m. with a craving. He tiptoed past the sleeping kitchen, past the biscuit tin and the fruit bowl, straight to the shelf with the red pouch. One crunch echoed through the house. Then he stopped, listened, and quietly tried again.
Puffy Singh had a window seat and one pouch of Pudina Mint. By the second station, three strangers were leaning over to ask what that fresh, minty crunch was. By the fourth, he had made three new friends and was down to the last puff.
