Natalie woke up and threw open her curtains to greet the day. She took a step back from the window. She was looking at a blank screen. The world had disappeared. She made her way cautiously to the living room and opened the front door. The fog was dense and cold. She stepped quickly back inside and went to put on the kettle. Weird, she thought, and so different from yesterday.

She made tea and thought about a shower. She wondered when would be the best time. She didn't want to give up precious writing time to do it, and she didn't want to wake Howie, both because she didn't want to disturb him and also because the longer he stayed in bed, the longer she could write. But on the other hand, she thought she would feel weird taking a shower with him sitting in the living room. And it might disturb his peace and quiet for working. Oh, for God's sakes, Nat, get in the damn shower. The day will have disappeared by the time you make up your mind! She looked at the windows again. The day might as well disappear, she thought, the world had.

She had a shower and got more tea. She settled herself at the computer and typed away, stopping occasionally to move a post-it note on the plastic storyboard. She was so into it that she didn't even hear Howie get up.

Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa... Howie opened his eyes and looked at his watch. Nine o'clock. He wondered how long Natalie had been up. Man, could she ever type fast! Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa... He stretched the sleep out of his body and got up. He figured he'd go work out on the porch. There was plenty of room and he could use the cushions from the wicker settee as a mat.

"Oh, my!" Howie stepped into the living room and saw the fog outside the windows.

Natalie looked up from her computer. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts and his hair was tousled. "Good morning," she said, with a smile. "Yes, the world seems to have gone away."

Howie opened the front door just as she had. "It's cold," he said, wafting his hand through it. He closed the door. He looked around the room. "Hmm..."

"What?" asked Natalie, making a quick note on a piece of paper. She had a thought and didn't want to lose it.

"I was going to work out on the porch, but..." He looked back at his bedroom door. There was no way there was room enough in there to do it.

"You can do it right there, if you want," said Natalie, still in the generous frame of mind of the night before. "It won't bother me."

Howie thought it might bother him to do it in front of her. It was just going to be sit-ups and stretches. He didn't have his weights with him or anything. But he liked to do it every day. "Okay," he said, "if you're sure you don't mind." He went into the bedroom and came back with a blanket. He folded it in half and laid it on the floor behind the couch. There! Now she didn't have to see him and he didn't have to see her. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and got down on the floor to start his set.

She couldn't see him but she could hear him. He didn't make a lot of noise, but the occasional grunt wafted up over the sofa and came to rest next to her computer. The odd image of him without his shirt wandered over to join them. It was when Natalie typed the word 'sweat' instead of 'swear' that she knew she was done for the moment. She stood up and went to the kitchen.

"Tea?" she asked.

"That's be great," said Howie, between sit-ups. He flipped over on his stomach and did some pushups. Natalie bit her lip and turned away for the kettle. Omilord, that was a fine piece of real estate. There was that song again, she thought. What was it? You're a fine piece of real estate and I'm going to get me some land. It was a woman, she knew that, but she couldn't grasp it.

She made tea and warmed up the cinnamon buns in the microwave. She added some fruit and set it all on the counter. Breakfast could be done standing up, she thought. She didn't want to have to pack her computer away just yet.

She looked at her watch. And it was only 9:30. If he was going to get up this early all the time, it would really cut down on her private working time. She wondered if there was a way to tire him out and make him sleep longer. A thought whisked through her mind. She turned and looked out the back window as she felt the blush creeping up her neck.

Howie didn't even notice. He finished his workout and picked up his tea. "Mmm, these are good," he said around a mouthful of cinnamon bun. "Even the next day..."

"Yes," said Natalie. "And it makes the house smell nice."

There was nothing more to be said then, so they just sipped their tea and munched on the fruit.

"Well," said Howie, looking around. "I'll let you get back to work. I'll just jump in the shower and then I'll..."

Yes, thought Natalie. Please finish that sentence. And then you'll...?

But he didn't finish it. He just moved his cup over to the sink and headed for the bathroom.

Natalie went back to her computer. Better make the most of it, she figured.

Howie stood under the shower and wondered how the hell he was going to fill up the next couple of hours. He had planned on going for a walk and then going over his work from yesterday on the porch. Maybe the fog would lift, but he doubted it. It seemed pretty thick. What caused that, he wondered? Cold front moving in and mixing with warm air from yesterday? That sounded right, but he didn't know.

He got out of the shower and dried himself off. Natalie had put two large bath towels in the room of different colors. He smiled. Burgundy and navy. At least it's not pink and blue. The burgundy one was hanging crookedly, as if she had just shoved it over the towel bar with one hand. Howie hung his carefully over the shower rod to dry, and then after a pause, he did the same with hers.

He slipped quietly through the living room and back into his bedroom. He put his clothes from the previous day into his laundry bag which he hung from one of the hooks on the back of the door. He chose his clothes for the day and slipped them on. He made the bed, smoothing the bedspread flat. Then he picked out some shirts and things that he wanted to hang up.

"Okay if I hang these in the closet?" he asked.

Damn! Natalie had been following a plot thread and it evaporated at the sound of his voice. Poof! Gone! Howie could tell by the stiffening of her shoulders that he had disturbed something, but he was determined not to apologize. He might spend the whole day doing that. It wasn't his fault it was foggy.

"Sure," said Natalie, waving her hand, not turning to look at him. She pawed among the papers around the computer and then looked up at the story board, trying to bring the thought back.

Howie went into her bedroom. Wow! She sure had picked the good one. There were twice as many windows as in his. He grimaced. Yeah, so she can see twice as much fog! He found the closet and opened it. He hung his clothes up carefully and then looked around the room. Natalie had dropped her clothes on the armchair the night before and they were still there. A t-shirt and some loose-fitting drawstring pants lay in the middle of the unmade bed. Her pyjamas? Howie guessed she had been eager to get to work and so saved these chores for later.

What do I do now? he asked himself. Well, lingering in her bedroom is not it! he answered. God knows what she'll think. He stepped back into the living room and stood there looking around. He looked at his watch. Not even ten o'clock. Damn! He went over to the sofa. He had tidied up all his papers the night before and put them in his briefcase. He set the briefcase on the coffee table and snapped it open. It sounded like a gunshot. Natalie jumped.

"Sorry," said Howie, involuntarily.

"'S okay," muttered Natalie. She hunched closer over the keyboard, trying to isolate herself from him and the outside world, trying to get into her story and stay there. She managed to do it for a couple of minutes, but then he started to hum.

It wasn't loud, but it was distracting. She wasn't even sure he was aware he was doing it. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at the music. He would hum a couple of bars as he read it. Then he would close his eyes and put his head back. Who knew what he was imagining? Then he'd open them again and start humming.

She wasn't sure if she should ask him to stop. It really wasn't very loud and she didn't want to seem petty. So she said nothing, but the humming grew louder and more irritating in her mind each time he did it.

Howie tried to keep the music in his head, but he couldn't. Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa... The rhythm of her typing interfered with the tempo of the music. He knew that it was her turn to work, but he would be grateful when she stopped. He needed to concentrate on this part of the song. It was a weak spot and he couldn't figure out why. He loved the rest of the song.

"Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa..." He didn't mean to say it out loud.

Natalie stopped typing and looked over at him. "Did you say something?"

Howie blushed. "Sorry." Then, "Ticketa, ticketa..." he repeated. "That's what your typing sounds like to me."

Natalie removed her hands from the keyboard and put them in her lap. Was he criticizing her? Was he complaining?

"Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa, tok, tok, tok..." he said and he smiled.

Huh? She asked the question with her eyebrows.

"You type really fast," he said, "and then you stop to think and then you backspace out the bit you don't want and then you start again. Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa..." He used both hands to make typing motions in front of him. Then he used just his index finger. "Tok, tok, tok. It's kind of musical."

Natalie thought about that. He was right. "You must write good songs," she said, "if everything you hear sounds like music."

He blushed and shrugged.

"Sing one for me," she said, turning away from her work.

He looked embarrassed.

"Sing the one you mentioned before, the one about being different."

He picked up the guitar and strummed it. Then he tuned a string and then another. Natalie was beginning to regret having asked him. Was he going to take all day?

"You don't run with the crowd, you go your own way..."

Natalie was transfixed. The song was beautiful. The melody and the lyrics...the song went straight to her soul.

"...you're beautiful to me." He finished the song and set down the guitar. He hadn't really wanted to sing it. He still didn't know how to take her and was afraid she might think he was showing off. But she had asked...and he didn't see how he could refuse. Once he started singing, he got into it and forgot she was even there.

He looked over at her and shrugged. She hadn't moved. "Of course, it's different when we all do it...you know, the harmony and all that," he said.

"Wow!" She didn't even say it out loud, just mouthed it. Then she found her voice. "That was beautiful. You're very talented."

"Thank you," he whispered, and then silence descended.

Natalie turned back to her work but was just too aware of his presence to get into the story. Howie sat on the sofa and tried to keep still. He picked up the book from the night before, but there was a limit to how much local information he wanted. He thought about going for a drive, but was afraid he'd never find his way back. He couldn't find the damn driveway in the light of day; he'd never find it in this white cloud.

Finally, he gathered up his papers and retreated to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the music. It wasn't comfortable, so he lay down on the bed. He wished he had room for an armchair like Natalie did in her room. That would be perfect. He could hardly ask if he could go to her room, though, now could he? Finally, he gave up on the papers and lay with his eyes closed, composing in his head, hoping that he could remember later what he thought up. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

Natalie heard him go. Thank goodness! she thought. Boy, this was going to be harder than she thought! The cabin really wasn't big enough for both of them, it seemed. And shortly, it was going to be her turn to be the intruder. I'll have a nap, she thought. I'll work here until he comes back out and then I'll turn it over to him. I'll go have a nap and then well, she'd just have to wait and see what happened then. She turned back to her keyboard. Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa...