There were three hours to kill. The day was cold and damp, like walking into a wet sponge. The responsible thing to do would be to find a cafe and work over an early lunch. Plus I had a few missed calls from the office. Francis stood a little way ahead of me on the sidewalk, fumbling in her handbag, a cigarette perched between her lips – neon pink lips that you could see in the dark. I wasn’t going to do the responsible thing.
She looked up as I approached. ‘Hey mate, have you got a light?’
‘Sorry, I don’t smoke.’ I scouted the crowds bustling past. ‘But I’ll find you one, if you like.’
Further down the sidewalk, a middle-aged man in a suit was standing off to the side, puffing on a cigarette while checking his phone. I approached him and asked him for a light.
‘It’s not for me, it’s f
