two

But Swanson's will be closed by the time I arrived and I cannot get my keys before 7:30 p.m. Well... Just some obligatory time to kill, with a cup of coffee maybe.

- One medium americano please

- To go?

- No, here. Thank you. 

- Excuse me, is this taken?

I guess his silent and short nodding meant that the seat was available. So, here I am. Sitting next to a man unknown to me at a slightly familiar coffee shop in a neighborhood where I've never been to in my life before. 

- So do you work around here?

- No. I actually came to fetch a comic book from Turf. But was an unsuccessful attempt. 

- Turf?

- Yeah...  A comics shop, several blocks down the street. 

- Never heard of it before.

- Hmm... Do you live here?

- Yep, around forty years. 

- Strange... I thought Turf has been here for quite some time now.

- Well, I'm not a big fan of comics anyway.

- I see... 

What else could I've said to his man? He seems to have been sitting on that chair for all his life. Not Turf but probably he knows all the coffees here. Or maybe he knows just one; the one he drinks all the time. I don't think he knows many people too. Even if they come across in this very coffee shop everyday. But I'm sure he's familiar to many of them and has plenty of opinions about them. Just like I have about him at the moment. Oh my time to kill... 

- So do you work around here?

- Yeah, I have this little repair shop at the 56th. 

- I see... 

Go on, go on! Don't stop again with a futile expression!

- Umm... I see that you are not into comics but do you know if there are any other comics shops around here?

- Just one, the one you mentioned before.

- I see... 

That should be it. I cannot force any more conversation. 

- But maybe Peter here might know somethings.

- And who's Peter?

- Over there with the black apron and green shirt. 

- Thanks.

- Hello there, are you Peter?

- Yes, it's me. 

- The man over there with the jean jacket said you might know about comics shops around here. 

- What do you wanna know?

- I actually came to Turf to get a Sandman draft dated back to 1987.

- Wow! Fantastic! A draft... 1987... When Sandman itself was a dream... Wow... 

- Yeah well... The shop was closed. And by its looks, I'd say, has been closed for some time now. But I got the address from the auction and I know the auctioneers very well. A mistake with the address is a very small possibility. 

- Let me see? Hmm... 8th east, 114, yeah that's right. I had no idea Turf was closed. 

- Is there any other Turf here?

- No no... I'd have known... Hmm... Besides, Jack, Turf's owner, is a huge fan of Sandman. What you're looking for must be there. But still, there are also The Pit Stop and Red Parrot. You might wanna check them out as well. 

- Would they be open now?

- I don't think so. They are closed on weekends too. So if not tomorrow, you should drop by on Monday. 

- Alright. Thanks a lot, you've been a great help.

- No problem. 

Having waved a short and silent goodbye to the "jean jacket", it is now time to hit the road back to the hotel. The receptionist must have gotten my keys already. And the first thing I gotta do is to call Janet at the Swanson's to confirm the address. 

Weird... This whole thing is really weird.