Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 66

He said he would make a call, so I told him I would be across the street at the café having some coffee.

I sat at one of the tables outside for about half an hour, idly sipping my coffee and observing everything around me. There was a man at the end of the street, a squatty little guy with dark, receding hair and a thin black mustache that looked like someone drew it on with a pencil. He appeared Italian. I guess they had Italian people in Switzerland too. I wondered if I'd ever meet anyone who's actually Swiss...