With a long day ahead of him, Markus heaved his backpack up over his shoulder. The Cool spring air greeted him as he stepped outside the small country house and made his way to the end of the lane. Tall oaks waved in the gentle wind as their leaves grew back with the return of summer. With mud caked to the side of his boots, Markus approached the end of the lane with a rather smug face; Monday morning's were not his cup of tea. The second hand on his watch ticked away while he waited for the "cheese wagon" as he called it, to arrive. Once more the red flashing lights came into his view, and Markus stepped on.