Noon peered into the establishment. Face pressed against the glass, he looked child-like and shameless.

The breakfast place, positioned at the root of the seaside pier, was prepped to serve and waiting to fill hungry stomachs. A waiter propped his elbow on the counter and smiled—life on the beach had weathered his grateful and weary face. Every employee was smiling, Noon noticed. He was jealous of them and their bold decision to make ends at the beach.

Ayenee Capital City was gone. Fuck it.

Worst of all though: the food was "good as fuck" and he didn’t have a penny left to get something. Without monthly ZCorp cheques, he’d fallen behind. The last of his savings had gone into his hotel room.

Noon pulled his mug from the windowpane and squinted along the length of the pier.

“That’s a longer walk than I remember.”