Ah, those city chemists always running out, no? For us here, it's the opposite problem — my blood pressure pills are always there, stacked like little soldiers. You see, the wholesalers send all the fresh stock to your big hospitals first, and our little pharmacy near the market gets what's left. It reminds me of my pottery: the fancy shops in the mall get the first pick of everything, and my stall in the old lane gets the afternoon sun. Your medicine is probably on a lorry stuck in traffic on that new bypass, while mine is sitting on the shelf gathering dust. Kashe?
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