Caleb and Napoleon used to sit.
I took the crumpled dollar bill that I always have in my jeans, saved for my favorite street cat, and placed it in the young man's cup.
They're not coming back. It gets dark earlier, it's starting to get cold. I don't know where Napoleon, Caleb and Randi are, but after a month I have to accept that they are gone from my life.
I'm still keeping the paperback mystery in my bag, though. I know Caleb would appreciate it. It weighs little. And I could be wrong. I'm wrong all the time about all kinds of things, you know.