The orange glow of the street lamps illuminated her steady path along the still snow-covered sidewalk. She walked north, staring straight ahead, crossed the east-west street, continued north up the same side, crossed over to the opposite side, soon crossed back, and returned south by the same route. It made no sense. There was nothing up there, not on either side. Her choice of location for reversal in direction seemed arbitrary, yet the boldness of its execution indicated otherwise. The night was cold, with a bitter wind, not a night many would choose for a stroll, unless perhaps a fire was in one’s head. But her pace did not betray heat, so measured was it. So measured it was and yet lacking in any destination of obvious distinction. Crossing the street immediately prior to her southbound return was particularly puzzling. Now it was true that she was dressed warmly, suggesting predetermination. A hat covered her head and she wore a heavy coat, though not of any great length, for visible below its hem were woolen tights covering her legs. She moved with swift, even motion, as if in a rush, and yet a rush to get where. To get there, and yet there was nowhere, to an observer’s eye. A brief glimpse at profile, from a point several meters to the immediate west, yielded the features of an aquiline nose and a set jaw, the latter betraying further evidence of explicit intent. The heels of her boots struck the concrete in staccato rhythm, fading out as she moved further south, a sudden sound of certainty struggling to be heard.