5:41 AM, QUEENSLAND, AUSTRALIA

Colin’s eyes watered from the yawn he held back, to keep his eye on the car ahead of him. Not that it would move. It never moved. Some sort of bingle had backed everyone up for miles, as always happened here. He was one of a hundred thousand people in Redcliffe who thought the city should have widened the bridge years ago, but no one ever seemed to do anything. He sat silently, trying to settle himself into the soft leather seats of his Mercedes. The smooth sounds of jazz wrapped him in a protective blanket, away from the honks and jeers of the thousands of commuters outside his window. It made him feel alone. He leaned upward, trying to get a glimpse of the Swan River over the side of the bridge, but all he saw was dark windows and vehicle roofs. The sky was still dark this early in the morning, but he knew he’d see a cold, relentless sun in a few hours, and probably still be in the same place. He slumped back into his seat and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.