She's been walking for an hour or more. Her shoes are uncomfortable and she feels her heel cracking. Wandering down an accidental red light district, a t-section lurks ahead. She hopes it will be a street name she recognizes. It is - in such a large city, wandering aimlessly, she's managed to plunk herself directly in front of the pub Jim goes to every night. It's closed, thank god -  her eyes scan the area nervously for his tethered bike; the sense of panic and a desperate feeling of shame and being seen overwhelms her. Dashing off to a Tube station, she swallows her pride, digs for some evasive shrapnel and hops onto the train wth a syncopated limp. There will be other nights to prove she has a sense of direction.