Explore "Cosmic Saboteur" by Frank M. Robinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Stan ran to the other window and stared at the street below. It didn't seem any different than when he had come in a few minutes earlier. The wide boulevard of stucco houses, the shade trees and the lawns. And a few of the apes on the sidewalk, hurrying to work.
Only they weren't hurrying, he noticed after a moment. One man was halfway down the house steps across the street, a brief case under his arm. But he wasn't moving. He was frozen in mid-air, off-balance, one foot halfway down to the next step. A housewife had stopped in mid-stride two doors down, her shopping bag swung forward at an awkward angle. At the corner, a small Renault car was poised in the middle of the street, caught in the process of turning.