Walking home last evening, deep in a city park, I passed a couple smooching on a park bench. I heard just a few words.
"He's working," she said. "All night. On night shift."
And then I wondered, why did she not invite her boyfriend to her home and cuddle in comfort?
Of course, the neighbours.
And the risk, as in countless movies, of leaving clues, two wine glasses on the table instead of one, his umbrella in the corner, that kind of thing.