"Five dollars for a squid," he called. The morning crowd ignored the man, averting their eyes from his filthy clothes and slumped shoulders, and giving him as much space as the sidewalk allowed. He reached out to a young woman dressed for an executive meeting. "Five dollars for a squid? Miss?" She stopped. "I don't want a five-dollar squid," she said. "You get what you pay for, you know."

"Not to buy," he hissed, "to sell!" She looked at him. "I want to buy your squid! Five dollars?"

"Hey lady," called a security guard stationed nearby. "Just ignore him. He's been here every day for a week, and he's not gonna start making any more sense."

She smiled at them both. "Except I do have a squid to sell. Give me your hand." She took his hand, then jabbed his arm with something from her purse.

He howled in pain, then his posture straightened and his eyes sharpened. "What... where am..."

"Your vacation is over, Mr. Forbrit," she said. "It's time for you to think straight again." She gestured, and a car pulled up.

Forbrit sighed. "Vacation always goes by so fast." They got in and the car pulled away.