. . . shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s Thursday. Tonight’s enchilada night, made lovingly by his girlfriend. It’s the only night they get together, seeing as how he works the nightshift as a security guard at his local zoo and she works the evening shift as a waitress in some greasy spoon. He looks at the poor beer selection, almost sullenly. He’s tired of the same, crappy brands week in and week out. Frankly, he’s almost tired of enchiladas. He wants something new for Thursdays, but he’s not sure what.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a young man in a hoodie walks up to Devac and silently hands him a plastic bag before walking away without saying a word. Curious, he looks into the bag to find a cheap, plastic safety razor, a can of shaving foam, $5,000, and a slip of paper with an address on one side and a house key taped to the other side.

Devac looks back up to discover the young man in the hoodie is now nowhere in sight.