The morning after. Greymouth. 7am.
Grey skies, a cool breeze off the Southern Alps, a patch of fog over the Grey River.
Television news crews and satellite dishes fill empty streets; crossing live to Auckland and to Australia for breakfast programmes there.
A reporter runs through the main street, notebook in hand.
Pike River chief executive Peter Whittall receives hugs as he arrives to face the cameras.
The baker at Blanchfield Bakery puts out fresh vegetarian and lamb's fry pies.
The ABC Quick Lunch is open but empty.
A power walker strides by, tuned to the radio news.
The owner of a cycle store says a cheery good morning.
Flair with Flowers displays its wares neatly on the footpath.
A logging truck, already loaded, sweeps through the town.
A Magic Bus finds a park and waits for its passengers.
A postie in a fluoro safety vest and shorts cycles by.
A Westroads man in a safety vest picks up litter, another sweeps, another cleans the public toilets.
A troupe of cyclists in safety vests and lycra slides by.
Three people congregate beneath a makeshift "community drop-in centre" sign.
Tourists carry their bags from Noah's Arc Bed and Breakfast; ready to leave it all behind.
The town clock on Mawhera Quay chimes 8am.
The news says Prime Minister John Key is on the way.
This is how Greymouth, that lost all hope on Wednesday of recovering its 29 miners, got on with business the day after the nightmare.
