I found myself eavesdropping on a rather curious conversation from the neighboring table. Two baseball-capped men were talking about a missing woman, while carefully and rather nervously looking outside the window. Sitting below the siren logo they were struggling to keep their sights on the endless waves of crowds moving to and fro on the city’s most popular street. It took a few minutes before I realized they were plainclothes policemen. This was followed by a second, more crucial realization: they were looking for Sarai Sierra.