Billy paced indecisively on the sidewalk in front of Sara’s house. He clutched the flowers in a viselike grip, occasionally turning to stare at the trim little building she lived in. It was small, square and tidy, like a little box she came out of and went back into when work was done for the day. Billy hadn’t known exactly what kind of home Sara would reside in, but if he had been able to guess, surely this century-old mill home that had been upgraded and gentrified at the turn of the century during a spate of urban renewal in the neighborhood would have been his selection.

He went round and around for a bit, then finally reached a decision: he could trundle around on the sidewalk all evening, or he could go up to the front door and ring the bell. And once he’d decided, there was nothing else he could do; so he did.