In those dark, lonely hours after all the action has gone home and the sun is still hiding itself, three men of no consequence ran into each other on the corner where two streets named after states meet. The first to reach the corner is a man named Horatio. Without direction, he pauses at the corner to light a cigarette and figure out which is the right path. After a few drags, a man approaches.
“My good man, would you happen to have an extra cigarette?” Horatio is asked.
Horatio acknowledges him with a nod and takes a cigarette from his pack, handing it to him. The other man begins to stroll in tight circles near Horatio, which makes Horatio nervous. But without direction, he feels he must stay on this corner until he has a revelation. Sensing the tension, the other man decides to try and break the ice.
“I once knew a delightful girl who ate nothing but lemons and daffodils. I won't bore you with the details since you gave me a cigarette. I am forever indebted to you or at least until I've had a chance to repay the debt. Right now is no good. I have very little to spare.”
“Keep it. I have a feeling you're going to need it. Whatever it is you have, it will cost you too much to lose.” Horatio responds without looking at the other man. He's afraid that making eye contact with him might lead the man to believe a bond has been formed, and then he'll never be able to get rid of him.
The other man takes this opportunity to get closer to Horatio. The two are now a normal conversational distance from one another. Horatio rolls his eyes as the other man speaks.
“I believe, kind sir, that you might be right. What you have said rings a certain truth. May I ask your name?”
“Horatio.”
“Horatio, a fine name. I am W.J. Bumsworth.”
Horatio vaguely nods in agreement. The two ash their cigarettes as a third man approaches.
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