Ethan had agreed to meet Roxy by noon. They were meeting at Camden’s cafe. After a raging debate as to the merits of coffee at different temperatures, they had decided to settle it by actually drinking it. Roxy would try cold coffee, and he would try hot coffee. He was firmly on his guard, ready to defend the honour of his beloved cold coffee from all who would impugn it.

He sat at a table outside, under a bright pink parasol, and tried desperately to ignore its colour. He looked away, he closed his eyes, he closed his eyes and looked away, but nothing worked. Eventually, disgusted, he stood up, ready to sit inside the cafe. He looked at a clock on the wall. It was 11:55.

He went inside, pulling up a chair and sitting down. A pretty young waitress approached him, opening her mouth to ask him what he wanted, but he cut her off with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just waiting for a friend,” he said, grinning. “Could you come back in five minutes, please?”

She grinned back at him. She probably wasn’t used to customers being very nice. He had met plenty of barmaids who suffered at the hands of wealthy, spoiled, arrogant and drunk customers, and though this wasn’t a bar, people were the same everywhere. He had once waited tables while he was alive, in misguided attempts to stay on the straight and narrow. It had been a hard first lesson in human nature.