For purposes that only they can know, people from the future—Thomas Lloyd calls them
“freezers”—put a small number of people into a kind of suspended animation. Nobody can
see the frozen except for those who have been previously frozen and then thawed. Thomas
himself is among this select group: frozen in 1903 on the verge of proposing to his beloved
Sarah; unfrozen shortly before World War II, at which point he can but view his still-frozen
Sarah.
Thomas James Lloyd, straw hat raised in his left hand, his other hand reaching out. His
right knee was slightly bent, as if he were about to kneel, and his face was full of
happiness and expectation. A breeze seemed to be ruffling his hair, for three strands
stood on end, but these had been dislodged when he removed his hat. A tiny winged insect,
which had settled on his lapel, was frozen in its moment of flight, an instinct to escape
too late.