Bartram stood in his kitchen looking out the sliding doors. No matter how hard he tried, he could not see the void. He knew precisely where it hovered. He had to fight the urge to go and peer through it again. He wondered if Jeanette knew how many hours he had already spent transfixed by the floating bauble. She couldn't know about the void itself, it was too small to be seen from any distance of matter. She could only have seen him standing stock still staring at her house. To be more precise, her bedroom window. God, she would think him to be a peeping tom. She couldn't know the length he had spent there. If she did, she wouldn't have invited him over for dinner.
Why did she invite him for dinner? Something was odd about that. Why, after all these years, did she become so friendly? The same time the void appeared! These two new events in his life could not be a coincidence. They had to be connected somehow, yet he could not imagine what the connection could be. He suddenly regretted agreeing to dine with her. If he had not discovered that mysterious hole in time, he would have been pleased by Jeanette's invitation. Because of his discovery, he regarded his neighbor suspiciously. Yet, what could be her ulterior motive? Sharing a meal was innocent. He concluded that he would be gracious but guarded in conversation, not to volunteer any information about his backyard phenomenon.
His eyes, he knew, were fixed on the exact spot the void floated, yet not a glimmer of its existence was visible. If he can't see it from his kitchen, Jeanette would be unable to see it from her house. The only way she could have ever seen it would be if she stood right next to the fence perpendicular to its location. And even then she would have had to look up. She was quite a bit shorter than Bartram and would have to stand on crate to see what he saw. He doubted if anyone other than he himself had experienced the strange small portal.