Ben and Grace are running across a void deck. Ben reaches the lift first and jabs furiously at the button. Grace stands behind him, calmly folding her pale blue sweater over her arms and watching the floor numbers tick by on the display screen.

When the lift doors open, Ben nearly falls into the lift. Grace steps in after him.

Alex lives on the ninth floor. Ben sags against the walls of the lift, ignoring their peculiar yellow stains. Grace stares at the gap between the doors, watching the blur of floors as they rush past. Her face, like Alex’s in a crisis, is inexpressive. Ben cannot comprehend her calm. Inside he feels like rising smoke and falling thunder.

It’s only when the doors open on the ninth floor that Ben stops, frozen in the corridor, unsure of how to continue. It is Grace who steps forward, who begins to walk down the corridor but stops and looks back because it is Ben who knows the flat number, not her.

In the silence between them, they can hear the shouting.

The shouting is from Alex’s mother. They hear nothing from Alex; in a fight, Alex never says a word. The cat is screaming; Ben imagines it backed into a corner of the kitchen, back arched, yowling in fear.

“Get out!” yells his mother, “get out! What do you mean by walking out on me one day and then coming back like nothing happened? You’re just like your father!”

Something smashes; it sounds like china. Grace winces; Ben flinches violently. “I said, go! I don’t want to see you again!”

The cat is no longer yowling. Its fearful mewing is an undertone to the silence.

Then the door bangs open, and Alex walks out.

He walks like a somnabulist, eyes open and unseeing, so much so that he walks past the two of them without stopping. It is only in front of the lift that he stops, and they catch up with him. Ben stares up at his empty eyes, afraid to touch him. It is Grace who reaches out and takes his wrist, who whispers, “Come on, Alex. Let’s go.”

He follows the sound of her voice, the pressure on his wrist, into the lift. Ben presses the ground floor button.

In the car, Ben drives back to the ice-cream parlour. Grace and Alex sit in the back. Grace sits primly, feet together, hands buried in the sweater on her lap, watching Alex, the road, the back of Ben’s head, Alex. Alex has sunk into his seat, still staring at nothing.

When they reach the ice-cream parlour, Ben stops the car. Nobody gets out. Ben stares apprehensively at the rearview mirror.

Alex sits up, and passes a hand over his face. He sweeps the fringe out of his eyes. Finally, he looks up at them.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s the only thing he says for the rest of the day.

They go into the ice-cream parlour. Ben pulls out three ice-cream cups and fills them with the first flavour he can find in the freezer, which is Italian coffee.

He holds one out to Alex, wordlessly. And for the first time in his life, Alex takes the cup and begins to eat.

*

The doorbell rings.

The time between the ringing of the bell and the opening of the door is rather long. Nearly two minutes, at a good estimate.

The woman who opens the door blinks at the stranger on her doorstep. “Who are you?”

The visitor smiles. She is a nondescript young woman, long hair, pleasant face. “Hi. I’m not sure if you know this, but I’m your new neighbour. I just moved in next door from Canada.”

The woman frowns. Her hair is straggled and damp with sweat, the lines on her face etched in a nearly painful manner. Her expression is suspicious. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just came over to say hello. It’s what we do in Canada. I thought you might welcome a new face, seeing as you’re living alone.”

“I have a son,” admits the woman. “But he left me. Walked out on me yesterday. It’s this new generation mindset. He’s a very irresponsible boy.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back,” says the stranger. “Have you eaten? I brought some food.”

The woman stares at her, unsure of what to make of this sudden display of charity that has shown up on her doorstep. Finally she relents. “Okay. You can come in.”

She opens the door to let the visitor in. The latter enters and puts a soupflask of porridge on the table, pushing the dirty plates aside to make space for it. The cat curled up in a corner unrolls and comes over to sniff this newcomer.

The visitor smiles down at it. “Hello. Who are you?”

“That’s my son’s cat,” the woman tells her. “Ignore it, it just wants food. Go away,” this to the cat, which has turned imploring eyes upon her, “I’m not feeding you. It’s too bad your master didn’t take you with him. Go away.”

The visitor bends down and strokes the cat. “I like cats,” she says, scratching it under the chin. “Do you mind if I take it with me? I’d like a pet to keep me company, it’s very lonely living in a flat by yourself.”

“Take it,” mutters the woman, “by all means, take it. But if he comes knocking on your door demanding it back, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The visitor scoops the cat up in her arms; it comes without resistance. At the door she turns. “Goodbye. I’ll come by again?”

There is no answer from the woman. She has opened the soupflask and is breathing in the hot smell of the porridge.

The visitor shuts the door behind her, and carries the cat to the lift, which she takes down to the ground floor.

The Toyota is waiting for her in the carpark. Grace opens the passenger door and gets in.

“Did she take the porridge?” asks Alex, who is in the back, arms folded. Were it not Alex, the slight tinge of anxiety might be taken as a normal reaction.

“She did. She looked hungry.” Grace twists to pass Alex her purring burden. “I brought your cat.”

Alex takes the cat from her. It settles on his knees, and he strokes its back as it curls up into him. “I hope she doesn’t get suspicious. She’s paranoid like that.”

“She probably won’t remember me,” says Grace lightly. “Sometimes it comes in useful.”

“We remembered you, okay,” protests Ben, backing the Toyota out of the parking lot. “For six years. Quite a long time, you know.”

“I know,” answers Grace. “I’m glad you did.”

What follows is silence, a carful of silence as they drive back to the ice-cream parlour, but for once, it’s a comfortable one.