Ben was on his was home from the harbour, carrying a basket with two fish. He had managed to sell most of the catch, but not all. It didn't matter. At least they had something for dinner. They had one mouth less to feed, too, now that Alice was gone. That was something. As he was moving up a the steep street, he suddenly stopped, put the basket on the ground and leaned against the wall, coughing. He had been having a recurring cough and breathlessness ever since he had been sick, a few weeks back, and it would play up suddenly. Ben took a few deep breaths.