The abysmal corner held no signs of life at one thirty in the morning. The seemingly contiguous city life abandoned this part of town years ago. Here, young epicurean, Miles Jones of Jones Incorporated, stood in a crisp navy suit with a subdued look upon his face. He averred, "This absurd subdivision is in dire need of major adjustments," to the only soul around, a harbinger in the form of a dejected cat. As Mr. Jones walked away the cat let out a shrill note, the last sound he heard, before the truck scattered his brains across the road.