Madeline sat before the large bay window of her second-story brownstone apartment, looking down onto the newly dusk-paved street. Misty rain intertwined itself with variable glimpses of tired headlights. The daily mass exodus had just begun— work was over, and those who lived outside of the city were heading home for the evening. Madeline, who was afforded the relief of part-time morning work at the neighborhood library, had more opportunities to sit and think about things than most. The bay window was a nice spot to do it.

Her partner would be home soon, too.

Madeline was in love, so the realization never failed to excite her, at least a little. Even a decade into the relationship, she still looked forward to it: the jingling of her partner's keys, the click of the door lock, and there they were. On the days she took to the bay window, she'd wave as they walked up.

As the street traffic slowly thinned out into late-leavers, Madeline recalled all it took to achieve the life she'd wanted for herself. Somehow, it turned out better than she'd originally hoped. She had everything she wanted and then some. Nothing extravagant, but warm and genuine. At 32 years old and well past the tumult of young adulthood, it felt like she finally had some answers to—

Her partner walked into view from down the rain-soaked street. Madeline waved once they were close enough to see her, and through the mist, she saw the curl of a returning smile. Her partner approached the steps to their brownstone. Madeline's afternoon thinking time was up, and the evening was about to open its arms to her.

A few moments later, she heard the jingling of several keys.

The click of a sturdy door lock.

And there her partner was not, for the world and its 8 billion occupants had just frozen in a total stillness, afforded the relief of thought, but held mere inches away from evening's embrace.