A couple in their late fifties walks into the Kolding Caffe and looks around. He has long gray hair and wears a dark-blue suit with a blue tie. She wears a long black coat with a silver scarf and her hair is died blond. Both of them wear Zagreb on their sleeves. They look petty bourgeois to boot, that is. She goes to the toilet, and he looks for a table for the two of them. He sits at a table next to mine and orders drinks for both. When she comes out of the toilet, she asks in a low voice: “Why did you choose this particular table?” “Feng shui,” he answers in a low voice. She seems to be satisfied with his answer, and I get up to leave.