One night in the midst of his attempts to stay awake and not dream he found old letters, his childhood best friend, he remembered how close they were even if she was younger, always treating each other as equals, until the war separated them. While he fought for the country, she was sent away to hide from the atrocities of war.

The next morning he made a point of checking with some of his childhood neighbours and learned that she was not far away, London, apparently single, living alone and working in an art shop.

He decided he needed her, a reminder and anchor to his origins to get him through even with the pain grinding at his bones. He stubbed out his cigarette on the floor when he saw her approaching his house.

"I thought it was clear that night walks make you easy prey" he spoke in a neutral tone, swallowing the anxiety of not knowing if she would recognise him and take his visit well.