What if the man she buried is back? What if he's the one standing across the street, the one in the corner of her local pub, or even the one knocking at her door? There wasn't a day that went by where Joanie didn't have this thought cross her mind. Take today, the man across the road had caught Joanie's eye. They were always the same type. Tall, broad, distinguished features and neatly cut greying hair. She'd done this long enough that she now just waited patiently for them to come into focus. Slowly, she realised they weren't as tall as she'd first thought. Although broad, their features may be less distinguished and more pointy or round. One time, the neatly cut greying hair turned out to be ginger curls poking out from under a baseball cap. She knew the brain was wired to detect danger and her brain was more than most. But it had been 30 seconds or so now and the man was still tall, still broad, she could still see the greying hair and she wondered, heart pounding, what the hell he was doing in the outskirts of south wales.