It was morning when he went to work. Early, but not too early. He sat in the sun chatting and eating ice cream for half an hour in the mid afternoon. He left work in the evening, waited for the tram. He climbed aboard when it came along, stood amongst the other commuters with his backpack slung from one shoulder across his front. A breeze blew through the window, playing through his hair, brushing across his face. He closed his eyes. It was evening and he was on the way home and the day was about to end. He climbed down from the tram, crossed the main road and wandered along the side street toward the house. It was dark, and the air was warm. He could smell what people were cooking for dinner and the intoxicating fragrance of jasmine. He felt contented.