He steps on to the yellow line, crossing the line is something he's practised at. It is an art-form, not something he does with paint or words, but step by step, despite the open arms of the person standing alongside him who is trying to make him stop and think. He sees the oranges, standing side by side next to the limes, he wants to pick up a lime and throw it, but a car crawls by and he doesn't, he picks up an orange instead and throws it as far as he can. The orange flies through along the street and hits the back of a bus as it pulls away from the bus stop. A girl on the back seat flicks her finger up at him and he watches, still standing on the line as she disappears into a fleck of nothing in the distance. Why did you do that? says the man standing next to him. He doesn't answer, just picks up a lime, puts it in his pocket and goes into the shop.