You wait a few moments, but no one answers. You knock again. This time you hold still, listening for movement behind the closed door.

Silence.

You turn to look around at the street behind you. The sun has almost descended below the horizon, and several swaying palm trees that line the opposite side of the street are silhouetted against the disappearing light. A few clouds low in the Western sky remain aglow, trying in vain to resist the soft blue curtain of nightfall with their fiery orange hue.

Across the street, you can just make out the shape of a man—probably a neighbor, out for an evening stroll. Despite the deepening gloom, he notices you looking his direction and offers a cheery wave. You . . .