She didn’t even know about the photography, to start with. Not until he had been coming and going for some weeks. She had been aware of him only in the background, a slim dark-haired Englishman who appeared as the replacement for a blonde Canadian girl, and who was nice enough, and attractive in a subtle way, and seemed to do everything OK, and came and went at the right times. They did not get talking until there was a problem with a student, a grown man who just disappeared, and she saw how he was concerned about this man. Sometimes it was like that, attraction, as if a person opens a door, and suddenly you look in and they’re interesting to you. The two of them stayed late in the office trying to contact this man and then when they left they went to a nearby tempura restaurant to eat, because it was late and they were hungry. They never did know what happened to the man – maybe something bad but maybe nothing bad at all, maybe he had just moved on without telling the school or paying his bill – but because of him they ate tempura and Jonathan got talking, telling her about his travels. Doors opened onto doors. She thought that he had spoken a lot about himself, and then they said goodbye and she got on the subway train alone, sitting there in the carriage with the evening still alive in her head, as the train ran and stopped and the passengers came in and went out at the stations, and she realised that he had talked almost all about other people’s lives and places, not his own.