The cafe is empty. Or nearly so. For all ten tables, there are only two men and a woman. The younger man of the two, dressed in a pinstripe suit, grey slacks, and leather shoes, is certainly here on business. A book rests on the table in front of him, cracked open about two hundred pages in. He appears distracted, agitated, a little nervous. Once he took out his phone and made a call. The voice on the other line, faint and obscured, was that of a woman. A girlfriend? His wife? A boss?