"Alan, Adam, Andy. Doesn't matter, I answer to any of them. My mom had a hard time keeping our names straight." "Funny," Natalie said, sipping at her coffee. "Two sugars, three creams," she said, holding her hand out. The other woman silently passed them to her. "I haven't gotten your name yet," Alan said. "Right," the other one said. "You sure haven't." A young man, all of seventeen, with straggly sideburns and a shock of pink hair sticking straight up in the air, shuffled into the room, wearing cutoffs and an unbuttoned guayabera. "Adam," Natalie said, "this is Link, my kid brother. Link, this is Arthur -- he brought coffees." "Hey, thanks, Arthur," Link said. He accepted his coffee and stood by his sister, sipping reverently. "So that leaves one more," Alan said. "And then we can get started." Link snorted. "Not likely. Krishna doesn't get out of bed before noon." "Krishna?" Alan said. "My boyfriend," the nameless woman said. "He was up late." "More coffee for the rest of us, I suppose," Alan said. "Let's all sit and get to know one another, then, shall we?" They sat. Alan slurped down the rest of his coffee, then gestured at the sack. The nameless woman passed it to him and he got the last one, and set to drinking. "I'm Andreas, your new next-door neighbor. I've just finished renovating, and I moved in last night. I'm really looking forward to spending time in the neighborhood -- I work from home, so I'll be around a bunch. Feel free to drop by if you need to borrow a cup of sugar or anything." "That's so nice of you," Natalie said. "I'm sure we'll get along fine!" "Thanks, Natalie. Are you a student?" "Yup," she said. She fished in the voluminous pockets of her jeans, tugging them lower on her knobby hips, and came up with a pack of cigarettes. She offered one to her brother -- who took it -- and one to Alan, who declined, then lit up. "Studying fashion design at OCAD. I'm in my last year, so it's all practicum from now on." "Fashion! How interesting," Alan said. "I used to run a little vintage clothes shop in the Beaches, called Tropicál." "Oh, I *loved* that shop," she said. "You had the *best* stuff! I used to sneak out there on the streetcar after school." Yup. He didn't remember *her*, exactly, but her *type*, sure. Solo girls with hardcover sketch books and vintage clothes home-tailored to a nice fit. "Well, I'd be happy to introduce you to some of the people I know -- there's a vintage shop that a friend of mine runs in Parkdale. He's always looking for designers to help with rehab and repros." "That would be so cool!" "Now, Link, what do you study?" Link pulled at his smoke, ashed in the fireplace grate. "Not much. I didn't get into Ryerson for electrical engineering, so I'm spending a year as a bike courier, taking night classes, and reapplying for next year." "Well, that'll keep you out of trouble at least," Alan said. He turned to the nameless woman.