Heat foyer.

She is in St Francisco.

She is sitting on the street looking towards the ocean.

She can’t see the water, but she can see the sky.

She is watching the colours as the light fades.

Orange.

Crimson.

Blue.

She looks thin; she may have forgotten to eat.

She unties the ribbon that was holding her hair and shakes her head. The light breeze feels soft on her neck and she sighs.

She is missing him.

He is in Paris.

He is sitting at his desk, trying to make the scanner respond to his computer’s command.

There is no cable connection, only a wifi signal.

The signal is weak, the scanner does not respond and he looks up and sighs.

Through the window he can see the roof of his neighbour's house, and a small part of the sky.

It looks grey, but it is full of swallows.

They are ready to head south.

He sighs.

He misses her.

She misses him.