Lucas got off three stops ter.

  The shadow was still with him. It felt the heat of the asphalt, the weight of the backpack, the slight tremble in Lucas’s muscles as he climbed the building’s stairs. All of it… it observed. And remembered.

  The Velum & Co building was discreet. A fa?ade of reddish bricks, windows with faded blinds, and an iron door that creaked when opened too quickly. Inside, time seemed to move slower. Maybe it was because of the old archives, the shelves overflowing with fragile papers and books that smelled like history — or maybe it was because of the people.

  Lucas crossed the reception without saying a word. The shadow slid right behind him.

  Shadow observed the tall figure closely.

  On her chest, there was a small white rectangle with bck letters that read Marilene.

  There was something about her that reminded him of Lucas.

  Not the same — different — but the patterns… the details… The same repeated gestures, the tired posture, the small spherical mirrors on her face.

  Did Shadow find her… funny?

  He couldn't quite name what he felt, but he stored it.

  He kept that sensation with the same care he had stored the child's cry on the bus.

  He would do something with it.

  “Morning, Lucas,” said Marilene without lifting her eyes from the computer. She was always there, always wearing the same gray blouse and the same crooked bun. Her voice was monotone, but kind.

  Lucas replied with a short nod, already heading down the hallway that led to the archives.

  The shadow, curious, gnced at the signs on the doors: Restoration Department, Manual Indexing, Dead Files, Digital Consultation. It didn’t understand what each name meant — but one of them felt vaguely familiar.

  The sounds were muffled, as if the documents had absorbed time... and imprisoned voices.

  Lucas entered the restoration room and settled into his cubicle.

  The shadow slid into a corner, observing everything. It saw three tall beings handling papers. One was pale, with two holes in the face so dark that Shadow mistook them for siblings. The second was of medium height, with a symmetrical face and an object on his face — two lenses, small mirrors — simir to the being who held the small one on the bus. The third was shorter than the medium one, but wide, with a face disproportionate to the body and no symmetry at all.

  Among the papers handled by the one with lenses, Shadow managed to read part of a faded title:

  “Without a shadow of a doubt, my love, I will return to you. — From Jack to…”

  The shadow fell silent.

  Do the shadows have doubts...? And what is love?