Madeline was in her pick-up truck, a ‘69 Ford, where she always recorded her podcast sessions. She had just returned from a road trip from Arizona to Los Angeles, back to her apartment where she parked on the street and took advantage of the neighborhood’s quiet to record a podcast. She started the recording and spent several minutes talking about an open-ended thought that one of the last books she had read on archaism had left her with.

Everything was going normally until she was interrupted by the sound of someone gently knocking on her truck window. Madz gave a slight, shaky jump from the sudden noise and the focus she had been in while recording — before looking through the glass, she stopped the recording and rolled down the window just enough to be able to speak with the person on the other side. She felt a faint twinge of distrust but tried to act casual. — Besides, Madz was exhausted after the trip, so she wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with anyone right now, but she tried to be patient and kind.

“Sorry, may I help you?” She spoke in a soft, gentle voice, slightly tired but still clear enough to sound kind, while keeping her eyes on you.