MEN WALKED in and out. A bolt of electricity darted into the night every time the door opened. The trains rattled behind him, their hydraulics sighing after a long day out on the rails. The freight yard was lit by a handful of bulbs attached to posts that stuck up between the walls. A train pulled in somewhere and broke the somnolent mood. He heard a shout and a voice that answered, the squeaking of brakes followed by the impact of something blunt and heavy. The door opened again and she came out. She was alone. She hurried onto Odinsgatan Street toward Polhemsplatsen. He followed her. After waiting for a streetcar to pass, she crossed the street and the parking lot. He felt the cold air rising from Fattighusån Canal as they walked over the bridge. She continued along the moat. Nobody was coming from the opposite direction. The Horticultural Society’s park was on the other side of the moat. She didn’t look around, and he had to quicken his pace not to lose sight of her when she turned the corner at Bastionsplatsen Square.
