The morning sun did little to warm his bones, Howard regarded dismally, as he shifted his weight on the stony tiles. A light breeze made its way up the street, sending leaves and detritus swirling aloft. People strode on by, their trench coats and briefcases flapping about noisily in the early winter chill. They navigated around each other with adept ease, gaze unmoved from phones or floor.
There was something to be said about the casual mundanity of a near-death experience in the big city, Howard pondered. Oh yes, there had been a hue and cry, and the shouting and shrieking had maybe lasted a good ten seconds, but after that you would have scarcely noticed that an accident had happened, apart from the odd pile of rubble. One lady might have even whisked her phone out to call the police, he had noticed, but then again perhaps she had called her friend – named James, he thought – to tell him about the scaffolding that had came loose from its host building and crashed down onto the sidewalk below.