Kirk wandered among the stalls of Napa's colonial market, feeling unhappy and generally unsatisfied with life. It was a grey, drizzly morning, and there was a piece of bacon gristle lodged between his back teeth. He couldn't work it free with his tongue, which was very irritating.
He hated his present life, he hated both of his present lives—in the Old and New Worlds. Kirk was a creature of comfort. He was at his sparkling best following a nap, a long hot bath, and an elegant meal washed down with good wine. There was an acute shortage of comforts in the New World, and sadly the Old World was becoming increasingly brutal.
