Andreas was walking along the edge of the road with his hands buried deep in the pockets of an old jacket. The zipper had been broken for months. It would half close, jam, open again, and then leave the fabric hanging crooked on him as if even the coat no longer knew how to sit on his body. His jeans were torn at both knees. Not by fashion. By use. By repetition. By the weight of the same body falling against the same points.