John ground a cigarette butt on the ashtray built into the top of the litter bin. He checked the time on his phone and drained an energy drink, crushing the empty can in his hand and popping it in the mouth of the bin. It was better in these circumstances to be absolutely punctual. For once he was spitting on his own doorstep, but needs must and all that. He had timed it so after he had visited the sex worker for a half-h...