Terry had been working the night shift at the Tasty Pig Cafe for the past two years. It wasn’t what he had dreamed of doing for the rest of his life but the pay was reasonable and he got the room above the shop for half rent as long as he worked at the Caf’. Terry didn’t much like daytime people. Nighttime people weren’t much better, but at least there were fewer of them. He’d been discharged from the army after surviving the entire war. He had seen and done things he didn’t want to remember and the monotonous routine of the corner cafe kept him from thinking too much about what had gone before. He had a library card, a small dog and all he could eat, which was more than most people had. Terry was practising gratefulness — it was a slow process. Years of staying alive in a world where most people wanted to kill you had taught Terry to quickly assess people, and this well-dressed lady sitting in his front window staring across the street was not up to any good.