What she decided at the sandwich shop, not with total certainty, but with some, is that this time in her life would be defined by fine experiences. She is fine, the food is fine, as is the drink and the bartender.

Other fine things: the train ride home, the walk after it, her neighbor across the street, the woman drinking tea, the man with the hat. She feels a kind of sadness she hasn’t felt before, except for that she has, except for that maybe she hasn’t.

There was a time when she felt like an ordinary person surrounded by extraordinary things, convinced the world was bright. Now the sun sets at 4:00, and she is less convinced.

The man next to her is on his third beer and wonders aloud, “When I fall off the cliff, will my eyes be closed or open?” She takes a bite of her sandwich, trying hard not to wonder that, too.