He sat in the corner of a café, a chipped cup of black coffee steaming in front of him. He drank it slow, his other hand drifting across his phone screen.

His boots were scuffed leather, dark jeans and a black shirt hung on him, practical clothing that matched the weathered pilot’s jacket he wore.

On his head sat a sun-faded cap, with a pair of sunglasses perched neatly on top.

The café smelled of burnt beans and sugar. He sat alone, not restless, not impatient, just still, as if the quiet suited him.

Here with his coffee cooling and the lazy ceiling fan turning overhead, he finally had a moment of peace.