The story opens with a deliberate structural oddity: Jimmy Patterson puts his key in the door, opens it, and starts to walk in—but kicks the door instead. He then repeats the action, experiencing the same door-opening twice. This doubled gesture, described with clinical precision, establishes the story's central device: a rift between two versions of reality, one where Jane is alive and one where she is dead. The narrator immediately frames the events as "patently impossible" yet "satisfying," signaling that the logic of the tale will be emotional rather than physical.

The Mechanics of a Thinning Barrier

The narrative builds its impossible premise through a series of small, accumulating anomalies. Jimmy finds that Jane's diary appears on her desk some nights, containing a letter to him; he writes one in return. Cigarette butts appear in ashtrays that were empty moments before. The barrier between the two "nows" is described as wearing thin, like a fabric fraying under repeated stress. Leinster anchors these phenomena in domestic details—a door, a diary, an ashtray—rather than in grand scientific explanation. The story's structure mirrors this gradual erosion: each scene moves from ordinary routine to a moment of rupture, then back to a strained normalcy. The repeated phrase "we hope" becomes a refrain, marking the emotional stakes of each small breach.

Recurring Images of Thresholds and Touch

Doors are the story's most persistent image. Jimmy opens the same door twice on the first night; later, he speaks of Jane leaving a door closed in her house, which he must open in his. The threshold becomes a metaphor for the boundary between life and death, possibility and actuality. Touch is equally charged: Jimmy and Jane "touch hands" once, though he cannot be sure. The climax hinges on a telephone call during which Haynes hears Jane's voice say "Jimmy! Darling!" before the line goes dead. These fleeting contacts—a hand, a voice, a written letter—are the only evidence of connection. Leinster withholds any definitive crossing, leaving the reader to weigh the reliability of each reported sensation.

The Unreliable Witness and the Skeptic's Role

The story is filtered through two perspectives: Jimmy, who experiences the phenomena, and Haynes, who hears about them secondhand. Haynes functions as the skeptical reader's surrogate. He is told the events in a "matter-of-fact fashion" and initially dismisses them as insanity. Yet the narrative undercuts his skepticism when he independently verifies a detail—Tony Shields's survival—that contradicts Jimmy's earlier account. This verification does not resolve the mystery; instead, it deepens it. Haynes's own sanity becomes questionable as he "practically gibbers" through the night. By embedding the fantastic within a frame of ordinary doubt, Leinster keeps the story grounded even as it veers into the impossible.

The Unresolved Ending and Its Structural Purpose

The story refuses a tidy conclusion. Jimmy's final words to Haynes are "Something has to happen. It has to!" Then a crash, a voice, and silence. Haynes goes to the police, but the narrative does not reveal what they find. The ending mirrors the opening: both are moments of interruption. The door that opened twice at the start is never explained; the telephone that goes dead at the end is never reconnected. This structural symmetry—anomaly, investigation, unresolved departure—leaves the reader in the same position as Haynes: possessing evidence that something occurred, but unable to confirm its meaning. The story's power lies in this refusal to close the gap between what is reported and what is real.

Readers should attend to the story's careful calibration of doubt and belief. Every extraordinary event is paired with a mundane detail—a key, a telephone, a diary—that anchors it in the recognizable. The narrative voice remains flat and reportorial, never rising to melodrama even when describing the most improbable occurrences. This restraint is the story's chief technical achievement: it makes the impossible feel like a matter of patient observation rather than fantasy. The unanswered questions are not flaws but deliberate invitations to consider how love might rewrite the rules of cause and effect.