Glühwein

A man comes home at two in the morning. He closes the door and first turns on the little desk lamp, then the electric ventilation heater. The flat is empty and tidy, as he had left it two days ago.
He takes off his coat and checks the door: locked, walks into the kitchen and puts down the black plastic bag with three bottles of cheap Palestinian red wine. From his briefcase he takes a laptop, sets it on a chair with a pair of speakers and turns on a recorded radio show.
He picks the biggest pot from the sideboard, places it on the hob and checks the curtains: drawn. He opens all three wine bottles and pours them into the pot, grabs a handful of cloves and two cinnamon sticks from the shelf above the hob, breaks up the cinnamon sticks and adds it all to the pot. From a small plastic bag he takes half a dozen cardamom pods, crushes them with the bottom of a glass, stops for a minute while he smells the bottom of the glass with closed eyes – Aaaaah! , then throws the crushed pods into the pot, too.
He takes a bottle of finest Scottish Single Malt Whiskey (single cask strength, 52.8%) and carefully pours about 6cl into the mixture while stirring with a spoon. He then covers the pot with a lid and sits down.
While listening to the radio, he laughs out loud a few times and shakes his head. It is two thirty in the morning. Merry Christmas!