Rafael is no stranger to prowling around the city in that slice of time between night and dawn. He likes the hush, the fact that the city finally seems to draw a breath. Born restless, with an ambition that outstrips his abilities, Rafael finds a measure of calm in visiting his mini storage locker and combing through his cherished objects squeezed inside six sturdy liquor cartons. He takes out his toaster, admires his reflection in the shiny chrome, slides it back into its box and then plugs his iron into an outlet in the empty hallway just to make sure it still works. He’s hoping that at some point, sooner rather than later, he’ll need to press out the wrinkles in his business shirts stored now in carton number five. Unlike other aimless days, today Rafael is awaiting word from his lawyer. To be precise, his wife’s lawyer. The case they brought against her boss for sexual harassment looks promising enough. She has witnesses. She has dates. Even direct quotes that others might verify. The one thing she’s a bit shy on is credibility. After all, if her boss was so obnoxious why then did she stick with it for eight years? It’s the one detail that will trip up a jury, the lawyer is always quick to note. If however, they can either reach an agreement or convince a jury that his wife, the love of his life, the mother of his future children, assuming her boss buckles, suffered, then, Rafael is confident that his plans will click into place.