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It was late on a cold Friday night. The bar was closing. I had been talking with Amy, a short young woman, of about my age, with long, wavy auburn hair. I'd seen her every once in a while in that bar. We'd been talking about her computer programs and my short stories.

-Time for this one to go home, I said.

-Same here. I have to catch a train.

-I can give you a lift on my bike.

We lived in the Netherlands, where bicycles were acceptable and two on a bike even more so. I lived near the train station.

We put on our winter jackets. She hopped onto the baggage carrier of my bicycle and 10 minutes later I dropped her off across from the station in Leiden, near where I lived.

-Thanks.

She looked at her watch.

-Shit, I have to go to Alphen, and I think I just missed him. I have to wait another hour.

...

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