50:50

The days of Ramadan tick by, quietly, and we watch the night sky. In a couple of nights, the full moon will mark the halfway point. The No Locals sign on Chalky's door has fallen once or twice, is showing dog-ears, but will probably last the fortnight. It scarcely matters; it's there only to placate the outrageable and be ignored by the regulars. Ringlets, on her corner stool, manages a wan smile