<strong>Tuesday 13th August 10:50<br/><br/>Outside the Pet Warehouse, Ferguson Street<br/><br/>Jessica</strong><br/><br/>"You know" a cultured accentless voice says behind you "I should really get some cards printed.  John S Anderson, saving random girls from psychiatric meltdown since two thousand and fourteen."  There's a giggle and the man you were talking to earlier moves round in front of you.<br/><br/>"Two thousand and twelve, actually.  I guess she counts.  Been a while but I'm still at the top of my game.  Come on coffee girl.  It's all good."  He snaps his fingers beside your head and then waves a finger in front of your eyes.<br/><br/>"We met, earlier, but you won't remember that.  Hell, I could say anything right now couldn't I?  Can you even hear me pet?  Seriously, it's all good.  I'm your forgotten by everyone, stoned off my tits, cartoon character meeting knight in shining armour.  Bet that's the first time anyone's said that to you."<br/><br/>He peers into your eyes for a moment.  "You know?  I think there has to be...something.  Some way of, I don't know... Some way of broadening your mind so this shit doesn't hit.  I think about this a lot.  I know it's all that sixties bullshit but I'm not some stoned hippie."  He giggles "I'm stoned, sure, but I vote conservative and drive a BMW.  Have a job and was meant to have an interview for a better one later today.  I'm practically the man, man."<br/><br/>He steps back "Come on, Coffee girl.  Talk to me.  Say 'Thank you, John, let us retire to the local hostelry where I shall repay your generosity with ale' preferably, but anything would do."