Sunday afternoon
Jon put both hands to his face and tried to rub his weariness away. He stretched his legs under the table. A sour fug clung within the cubicle. He stared at the clock. "Only one interview in and I can hardly keep my thoughts in order."
Perstow placed a hand against his forehead, closing his eyes.
"Not you, too?" Jon asked, suddenly worried.
"I'm fine. Not much in the way o' sleep."
"Time for lunch," Jon announced.
A bright expression flushed across Perstow's face, as if Jon had offered him a raise in pay. "Sure!"
Out of doors, the gray sky glowered. The wind's chill bit through layers of clothing. Puddles of rainwater dotted the pavement. Before they had made it past the pottery on their way to the Spider's Web, rain burst from the leaded sky. Inside the pub it was
