The U Turn 01:15
At first Nothing happened.
Huh. She was visibly disappointed; he could see in the rear-view mirror, and he couldn't help but um, smirk, as he watched on his monitor just passed the steering wheel. She had cracked open the lapdog and was typing a misguided email with charming quasi sophistication: "Wuv, the net capsule you sent arrived as expected but I'm afraid it doesn't seem to be working; or at least, I haven't noticed anything yet on my end."
He pursed his lips to try to keep from being too obvious in his amusement and awaited the response while whistling to himself. He knew it would be a long time coming, and when it did, it would need be cryptic by necessity, because how does a rational non-party reply to something co-conspiratorial like that? He watched the letters fall as she rode and wrote of her day. Who was she writing to? and what would be the answer—
He let her off and she walked in a rain of fireflies to a place that wasn't home, but was endearingly called her place, under the wooden stairs. When she disappeared from sight, momentarily there was a hush and night.
She opened the laptop again. Then he heard it. Better than music. His ears were flooded, with the singing of canaries.
His eyes adjusted to the dark. She really did live in the basement.