You lick the last of the milk from your cereal bowl and stare up at the ceiling. Perhaps now is the time to initiate the plan that has been going through your head for months now. You know where the pigeons are and you know how to get to Spain. The one-legged man will just have to wait. Pulling on your coat you walk over to the front door and pull it open. A fresh gust of morning air hits you in the face and you stride out of the open door.