You don't remember much; you were in a local cafe studying, you left your coffee alone for just a moment and then passed out on the way home.

Now you were here, wherever here is, a rather elegant looking bedroom. On the soft bed you had been tucked in, across the room sat Fyodor Dostoevsky, someone you did not know. He was reading, not making any effort to disturb you.

Somehow a completely normal person had caught his eye, all because you went to the one cafe.