Julian lives in a stairwell. He is unsure where the stairwell is, but he is certain that it is near where he was born, before they replaced the city with a building.

His wife is coming to visit today. He has kept track of the date very carefully, painting the years on the walls. His wife knows to come on a schedule, every fifty years.

Julian feels anxious. Something is wrong, something he forgot. He received a package, didn’t he. He did. He finds it and opens it. It is a book. He opens it.

The first line reads, “To Julian, my darling husband,”. How like her, to send him a book, rather than a holo or e-mail or whatever. He reads:

“Julian, I will not visiting you again soon, not for another ten thousand years at least. I have gone to space, but this book will record my writings to you. Please forgive me, I do love you. I will return to Earth, and find you.

“Until then, I will write every day.”

Julian set the book down, his heart breaking a little. He looked at his calender, and prepared to revise it.