There's a twinkle in the gutter. With coaxing it will be a fire and as fire it will grow and consume until I can bear it above my head and shout light into the darkness.
	It's a bland room of walls and waitresses both a sickly yellow, street-facing windows letting in the pale light of an overcast sky.
	Can I get you anything?
	Just coffee, thanks.
	Same for me.
	Want anything in that?
	No thanks.
	Black's fine.
	She's smiling and I'm not sure if it's from friendliness or pity.
	So how was work?
	Oh, you know. Same shitty job.
	Come on, honey, can we please just try to have a nice time?
	Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. It was about standard. You know. Everyone with their own private affairs.