Most nights Albert came home from work spent. While dinner was cooking, Albert grabbed a quick nap. He was a master napper, able to dive down, touch bottom and emerge refreshed just as the microwave sounded. He ate his meals quickly, standing by the window, burning his mouth with every forkful and then headed off to his various evening functions. If it were Monday, Wednesday or Thursday, he’d head to Town Hall where invariably there’d be a meeting about something requiring his input. O.K., maybe “require” is too strong a word. His fellow residents in the town would probably use the word “endure” because Albert had become one of those town cranks, always stepping up to the mic to voice his opinion.  Tonight however, was the first hint of fall. A strange combination of smells drew him from his normal route. From afar, he caught the noxious scent of rotting fruit from the ginko trees, a bit like farts. Close up, there was the treacle like odor of incense accompanied by a Hari Krishna group thrumming off key. The night was young. So he lay down the burden of his opinions just for now and continued walking.