At 11:37, she walked into the cafe across the store – she was running a little late. She came back outside at 11:41 and smoked on the south-facing wall, the wall facing the cafe that Michael was sitting at. She stood for a few moments and left, and Michael got up too and followed. He didn’t pay today – she didn’t smoke her whole cigarette, so the waiter didn’t bring the check, so he didn’t pay. He hoped that would be alright.

Once again, he waited in an alley, this time springing into action a mere forty-five minutes later. He had accidentally dozed off for a moment – he really should have slept the night before – and he found himself wishing for the second time that day that he had legs the size of a fire engine as he drove on towards the grocery store. Eyes glued to his watch, he made up the time, although he had to take a moment with his hands on his knees before his head would stop swimming and stars would leave his vision.