"Jackie!" yelled Laura Gardner, banging her fist on the door like it owed her money – which it did, actually. "Jackie, jus' stop it. You can't hide forever. Your rent's been over due two weeks. It's time to pay up, hun." She glared at the Tyler's front door, willing it to open. It didn't.

Maybe something had happened. Really, with all those pepper pot things and with metal things, it had been so dangerous. Oh god. Laura thought. Oh, my god. She thought of her: poor, old, unemployed Jackie with her daughter off traveling, leaving her all alone. Tears began to prick Laura's eye, and she cursed her rather over emotional tear ducts. Don't be stupid, she said to herself, Jackie's not dead. She's just don't got the money.

"She's gone," sounded a voice from behind her. Startled, she turned, and came face-to-face with a man in brown pinstripes.

"What d'you mean? If she's just out for a pinic she better get her butt back down here to pay her bloody rent," snarled Laura.

The man looked on, his solemn expression unchanging like it had been set in stone. "No, really. She's gone. She's not coming back." He sighed, and the sound was ancient, like the sound of rocks tumbling. A peculiar emotion shined in his eyes, something that Laura could never identify. "I have the money, if you need it."

"Yeah," she breathed, awed. As he handed her the bills, his skin brushed hers for the slightest moment and the warmth astounded her. Then he was gone, brown overcoat billowing behind him.

Laura looked down to the bills in her palm and closed her hand around them. She walked slowly back to her flat, and paused outside the door when she heard the sound of engines.