Unable to sleep late at night, Theo rises, puts on his robe, and sits on his balcony with a glass of water, savoring the city’s rare quiet. The stillness of the Promenade and the constant whisper of the Fedder fountain calm him and invite drifting memories.

In the deep night, Theo listens for any stray human sound and reflects on how the world has grown noisier, and on how he once contributed to late-night disruptions himself. He expects the night’s hush to lull him back into sleep.

At four in the morning, Theo hears faint music and tries to locate its source, first assuming it comes from a nearby apartment or a business left open. Leaning forward, he realizes the sound is a woman’s soft singing from a bench beside the fountain.

The woman sits alone with a bicycle and a large hat, singing in a thin, tender voice that Theo cannot fully make out through the fountain’s spray. Her posture suggests weariness, and she keeps her gaze fixed on the water or her folded hands, never looking around; Theo reads her as both hidden and longing.

A lone police car slows near the fountain, but neither the patrolman nor the woman acknowledges the other, leaving Theo to wonder if they are familiar. After an uncertain span of watching, Theo sees the woman rise, wheel her bicycle to the street, ride south, and vanish into the night after passing the Light and Broad signal without stopping.