It was always the same. “It’s never going to happen again ever! Not this time! It will be good!” then five minutes in the weekend, War was trying to mediate a lover's argument by offering a variety of firearms at discount prices, Famine had ordered everything off the menu thirty times and Pestilence was snorting petri dishes in an effort to cure a cold after sneezing and decorating the walls with gooey snot.

Death gazed down at the dead waiter lying by their table and sighed inwardly, Death had forgot the non-lethal rubber gloves sitting on the dining room table.

There was solitude in a window Mary thought, the world rolled by full of people day on their invisible preoccupied lines going from a to b or maybe a to be to a to c nevertheless every day bought new faces amongst the usual. It was almost like watching fish swimming in a tank, she thought.

The city had always been a fascination with its architecture but now Mary was finding people were her new Carlo Scarpa. Every day was different and today most definitely was as she found herself returning a wave to a smiling stranger in a suit.