The city was empty and so was she. There was an echo in the quiet streets and an echo in her ear. She had heard this sound before--this sound of nothingness--and it reminded her of something. That vacancy. It made her think of her marriage. That was the sound of her marriage, that emptiness. She felt comfortable in that sound. Above her a streetlight snapped on with an almost audible sound. She could hear the click or maybe just imagine it. The electricity lines opening, sending current to that one lamppost so that it could shine with its weak light. She kept walking and heard another click. On came another light as if they were following her, lighting her path. No one else was out. It must have been after four in the morning and she couldn't remember what she was doing there. Another sound. This one, not a click. More of a moan. Then she realized it was the sound of her own voice, a moan she hadn't known was in there. She thought about the last time she moaned--that time was with pleasure. So long ago. What had happened to open up that emptiness between them? What happens to empty out a city? A city with four million people is not easily emptied. Perhaps it was all a matter of timing. A black cat crossed her path like an omen. And she suddenly felt not so alone. Click. Another streetlight came on and she was almost home.