Peter breathes a sigh of relief when they step outside. After being underground for eight hours, the sky is a welcome sight. The door overlooks a car park, which has a clear view of boring grey Wivley.
He glances over to Markus, who is staring ahead with his eyebrows as far down as they’ll go.
“Which one’s yours?” Peter asks, nodding towards the cars.
“The red one,” Markus replies, “We’re walking towards it.” (oh, duh)