It’s the usual cafe, every Saturday. Today, Aaron asks for a banana milkshake, and his brother says he’ll have one too.

“He always has the same as me,” says Aaron. And it’s true, the brother always has exactly the same, whatever it is. “Why do you have to copy me?” says Aaron, riled by his brother’s smile.

“I decided to have banana before we came in,” says his brother. “So maybe you copied me.”

“I’ll have strawberry instead,” says Aaron.

The waiter looks at Henry, who turns away. Henry tells the boys that he’s going to the toilet, and to behave while he’s gone. He examines his face in the mirror over the sink. The light makes him look a hundred years old. He closes his eyes. This is an old-fashioned bathroom, of dripping taps, cold angular surfaces, and the scent of bleach on porcelain. Sounds of water and echoes. Someone might come in at any moment, but he’ll enjoy the tiled solitude until he’s disturbed.