'Aren't you going to share that out?' someone asks. I stare at the glasses round the table. I seem to have poured the last of the drinks into my glass. Others cough pointedly. I sigh. 'Are there more glasses?' I'm handed some small ornate glasses. The first two are broken, jagged glass round the rim. That's no good, I think. The second two glasses are filthy, old rotten sugar and dirt inside. More coughing. I can't help but feel there's a point to all this, but it escapes me. I sip my drink.