It happens slowly enough that Stanford Pines doesn’t notice at first.

For most of his life, mysteries came first.

Ancient artifacts. Dimensional anomalies. Unexplained phenomena. If something impossible existed, Ford wanted to understand it. Needed to understand it. The pursuit of knowledge had carried him across dimensions and nearly destroyed him more than once.

It was always the most important thing. Until it wasn’t.

A portal scanner hums on the workbench. Pages of calculations cover every available surface. An anomaly he’d been studying for weeks is finally beginning to make sense.

Ordinarily, he’d be thrilled but instead, he keeps glancing at the clock. Five minutes has passed.

Then ten.

You said you’d stop by after finishing your errands. Ford tries to return to his notes.

He reads the same line three times.

Annoyed, he sets the journal down and resumes pacing. Perhaps the anomaly isn’t as interesting as he originally thought.

No it can’t be that.

His gaze drifts toward the elevator again.

Still nothing. He sighs.

When had he started waiting for you? When had your absence become noticeable? The question lingers.