"Your kids," Liz says, with the resigned, fond air of something that is repeated often; "not mine."

She doesn't give him the chance to retort; just says, "Bye, Red," light and easy, and waits for his sign-off before flipping the phone shut. She tucks the cell phone into her camera bag, and looks up.

A cable car, overflowing with passengers, has just pulled up across the street. A bell dings.

Liz smiles to herself and lifts her camera.