The browned, calloused hands were those of a craftsman at work. Deftly balancing the paper between thumb and forefinger, sprinkling tobacco down its spine, the right moved effortlessly. As the tobacco sat patiently, ignoring the breeze with a cool contempt the right reached with dirty, but neat nails up to the mouth to retrieve a roach clenched in the lips for safekeeping. A roll of second nature ...

Maybe today, thought Ryan.

He was stood in the living room of his flat, waiting for the cup of tea in his hand to cool. Blowing on it was no good anymore. It had become his custom to stand in the window, looking out at the world waiting for his first cup of tea to cool down. The first cup of tea in the morning, after his walk, before going to work, that was the best brew. Indispensable.

Eating w...