As he walked towards the door, Seb wondered how many people had gone to a funeral parlour knowing they were neither attending nor planning a funeral. He decided it was probably a single-digit number, all consisting of people just like him – weirdos who were planning on asking out one of the staff. He felt a complete idiot as he walked up the path, but he had absolutely no idea where else he could find her. He wasn’t a stalker, after all.

He opened the door, and a wave of nervousness hit him like a cartoon piano. There she was, behind the counter, scribbling away in a notebook of some sort. He closed the door behind him and, as casually as he could muster, slowly walked up to the counter.

He noticed a bell, the sort you find on the counter in hotel lobbies. It seemed rather out of place to Seb. Almost distasteful.

She jotted for a little while before she noticed him leaning against the counter. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“No, no,” said Seb, smiling nervously. “I’m just… er… hanging out.”