A writer named Jack, who lives alone in a lighthouse, answers a knock at his door one dark and stormy night. A young woman whose car has broken down asks if he'll call a tow. He invites her in and offers her supper. His table, with candles, is already set for two. Is he expecting someone, she asks; no, but people often break down on stormy nights, he explains. She's Cardea, fresh from a party. She declines his offer of meat, but accepts wine. They make small talk. He shows her his art. Is one of them in danger?—<[email protected]>