He had killed a man before, but never really thought it worth mentioning. Where was she anyway? Could she have better things to do? He doubted it. Anyway, that was a long time ago when he was down on his luck in Norristhorpe, and a man who doesn't really exist can get away with these things. For this long at least. He overheard the old women behind him complaining about the weather. He couldn't understand why. Cleckheaton was always this grey, even when the sun came out.

There she was! "Excuse me", he shouted. "My breakfast doesn't have a grilled tomato, you forgot the tomato". He gestured towards his plate, stacked high with five of the requisite six items which go to make up a full English breakfast. Saussages, eggs, mushrooms, bacon and hash browns (the toast and/or fried bread doesn't count). "I can't begin to eat my breakfast without the tomato", he explained, beginning to sound rather concerned. The waitress sighed, "perhaps it's hiding under your egg" she said with a dry smile, deliberately escalating the tension. She saw something in his eyes, and evaluated the situation in an instant. "I'll just get one for you" she said chirpily, before rushing behind the counter.

When she came back, he ate his breakfast quickly and in silence, starting as he always did, with the tomato. "I've killed before!" he shouted unsteadily. A few people looked round, noticed that there was noone near him he could plausibly have been talking to, and quickly looked back at their plates. He grumbled something. This was a forum for the insane he thought as he buttoned up his coat and stepped out in to the bus station.

He stood at stand 3. He had no intention of catching a bus.