Oakland, California, 1987. In a diner cafeteria on the road, at one of the tables in the back, Clint was sitting, with only a bitter coffee, a half-finished pack of cigarettes. He looked out the window, the sun shining on his face, with a frown and a low growl, he put the cigarette in his mouth and from the front pocket of his dark jeans he took out the lighter while he waited for a waiter to approach. It was 9 in the morning and his mood was not the best… you’re his waitress and he grunts whenever you come to take his order