Sometimes one will come across a companion when dining. Today that occurred. I was enjoying my morning coffee, sat in a cafe with my feet up when a girl walked in. Nothing unusual, I hear you say. Well perhaps. But if you could have seen her. Head held high, her dress filthy, whilst her hair was thick with river mud and tangled with flotsam. But she entered the cafe as if she had not a care in the world. But I saw the torn nails and blood stained legs. ‘Would I buy her a drink’.