I swallowed my mouthful of coffee and told John not to be daft. "You're probably just overtired from your new position at work."
   John leant against the cupboard in his black woollen overcoat and fidgeted with the loose handle.
   "Everyone sees strange things at night now and again - it's just your imagination filling in the gaps."
   "But it's starting to worry me," he said. "I mean, the little dog was okay, I could handle that, but the kid on the bike was so real."
   "It was only a road sign, John."
   "I know that, Kathryn. You know I know that."
   This had been going on for weeks. John would be driving me home after we'd finished work and he'd see something on the road, like a jogger or a parked car. One Wednesday night he slammed on the brakes thinking a little white terrier had run under the car. We both got out and all that either of us could find was a plastic shopping bag blowing down the road. I hadn't seen any dog.
   "Maybe I could drive," I suggested. "Your car, I mean, until my insurance comes through."
   "No. No, it'll be okay."
   "You sure?"
   "Yeah. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should get some rest. It's late." He moved towards the door to leave, then turned to give me back the coffee mug he still had in his hand. "Thanks for the coffee."
   "Are you sure you're okay?"
   "Just worn out." John gave me a reassuring smile before he opened the door to the frosty night and walked back to the car. I switched the outside light on for him so he could see.
   I put the milk back in the fridge and gave the mugs a quick rinse. The clock on the stove said it was nearly eleven. I was definitely going to have to try to get a job closer to home.
   I was about to turn the outside light off when I realised I hadn't heard John's car. Sure enough, there it was, still on the other side of the street.
   "John?"
   Nothing.
   "John?" I walked out to the letterbox, my breath hanging in the cold air. "John, are you there?"
   "Kathryn!" I heard from further down the street. I could make out John's silhouette near the street lamp on the corner. "My car's frozen again."
   "Why didn't you come and say so? Let me call you a taxi."
   "No, it's okay, the walk will do me good."
   "John, it's late. Why don't you stay here tonight?"
   "Kate, I'm fine, believe me."
   "Are you sure?"
   "Yes," he insisted. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
   I watched the silhouette of John's big overcoat sweep tighter around him and he continued walking towards the light. Frosty grass crunched like gravel under his feet, and then he paused for a moment in the light before disappearing into the darkness, taking the sound of his footsteps with him.
I pulled the wad of hardware catalogues out of my letterbox and a white envelope fell to the ground. My car insurance, finally! I skipped back inside, singing "I'll Take You Riding in My Car, Car."

   John didn't arrive the next morning. I rang his home and there was no answer. I rang work to say I'd be late, but they hadn't heard anything from John.
   It's been five weeks now, and I drive my little Hyundai to work every day. It seems that everyone has trouble remembering John except me. Every time I ask someone they remember a little less; but his car is still there. The council keep threatening to tow it away, but I won't let them. I make sure I roll it to a different position each night when I get home. It has to be there. It's my only proof about what happened.
   I watched an old lady step into traffic yesterday and I nearly drove into a truck. The old lady vanished, just like the policeman last week.

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