There’s a trendy cafe along a street where the alfresco seating is always well occupied. The muted hum of general conversation is broken only by short bursts of laughter.
One of the concrete slabs forming the pathway outside has lifted and created a lip. A businessman passes by, noting the specials on the blackboard menu. The toe of his right Florsheim catches the protruding edge and his briefcase is sent skittering up the street while he crashes to the pavement.
The hum quiets and the patrons all turn their heads to look at the fallen man. “Thirteen” they state in unison, as a matter of fact, before returning to their coffees…