A transient walks by a restaurant with outdoor dining. He shuffles his feet. His pants sag. A folded newspaper hangs out of his back pocket. A jazz band stands by, holding their instruments idly, in between songs. Seven or eight tables are set up outside of the restaurant. People are eating and talking at their tables. Forks can be heard clinking on plates. The transient starts to shout, something indiscernible. People stop what they’re doing and stare at the transient, as he stands there on the sidewalk. He looks at one table in particular, and continues to shout. Nobody does or says anything. Forks have stopped clinking. The transient stands there. For a moment, there is silence, other than the street noise—cars passing by. Then he continues to shuffle his feet, moving on down the sidewalk. The band picks up their instruments and continues on to the next song. Forks resume clinking on plates.