“So this is where she lived…?” Theora murmured as they stepped on the yard of a small apartment building. It was made of concrete — grey and dirty, but the balconies were lined with flowers and clothing hanging up to dry, making the place seem alive despite the gloom.

Theora couldn’t quite place whether that gloom came from the building and the overcast and the humidity, or if it was just carried here by her own feelings about Amanda Dupont’s disappearance.

Both Dema and her were talking about it in these terms now — disappearance, rather than death. Even though neither of them had any expectations or even hope of actually finding Amanda. There was no reason to believe she was still part of this world. But… her grave was empty. Her body had never been found.

That hadn’t stopped authorities from declaring the case closed, though.

Dema nodded up to the highest floor. “She lived right under the roof.”

According to the reports, they had encountered the apartment locked. Amanda’s key had still been inside, together with spoilt food on a half-eaten plate, pain medication, and traces of blood. Amanda herself was gone.

Right as Dema wanted to walk ahead, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of the breast pocket of her red flannel blouse, then frowned at the display.

“Are you wearing my teenage clothing?” Theora said, only realising it now. It fit surprisingly well.

“Oh, yeah!” Dema said, distracted. “Found it in a box.” She looked back at the phone. “Unknown number,” she explained, sounding somewhat puzzled. Theora’s stomach clenched. “I never get messages from unknown numbers!”

“What does it say?” Theora asked, carefully.

“Well… it says, ‘What are you currently occupying yourselves with?’” Dema shuffled next to Theora so that they could both look at the display, and typed, ‘New phone! Who’s this?’

“Haven’t you been using this phone for quite a while?”

Dema turned, with a bright expression, but nodding. “Yeah! That’s just how you say this, it’s an expression!”

Oh. Theora did not use her phone enough to be aware of such intricacies.

Before she could dwell on it, Dema received an answer: ‘The denomination I received from you is Invent One. What are you currently occupying yourselves with?’

Dema’s face lit up. “Oh, it’s her!” Then, still smiling, the confusion drooped back into her face — she pulled her eyebrows together and mumbled, “Wait, ‘denomination I received from you’? What’s she mean? Also how’s she got my number?” Still, without hesitation, Dema responded with, ‘We’re out investigating something!’

The next answer took a moment longer to appear and read, ‘I have experienced the urge myself. However, as we have now established contact, for efficiency you may receive information directly from the source, if needed.’

Dema looked at Theora. “Does that make any sense to you?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Then, Dema shrugged. “Oh well, don’t wanna make Bridgit wait. Let’s ask Invent One later. Actually, I wonder if she’ll let me call her IO? That’s shorter.”

“You seem a little happy,” Theora observed.

“Well, yea!” Dema answered, beaming. “Was wondering if I’d get to meet her again, and now we have her number… You could meet her too!”

Theora nodded. “Let’s do that, if she wants to.”

They reached the doorbell, so Dema pressed a button on the highest floor, and waited.

“Dema?” an old female voice asked from the speaker.

“Yeah!”

“Oh, good, good. Come on in.” The door buzzed, and they entered.

“She’s the neighbour you got in contact with?”

Dema nodded. “Yeah. I looked up the address in a phone book and called random numbers.”

Theora followed up the stairs. Dema was tiny and weak, but walking in her shadow was so comforting.

Dema had made this all happen. Found Amanda’s old address, worked out an itinerary to get them there, called in to the fire brigade to move Theora’s shift — Theora herself never felt comfortable saying no to them.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

And now, Dema had found a way in, to talk to someone who may have known Amanda too. Perhaps Dema really could succeed at any scheme she put her mind to.

“Oh, hello there,” an old woman said, welcoming them into her apartment with wide smiles. She had thick, white hair puffed up at her head, and dark eyes. She adjusted her frameless glasses with a little push of her fingers. “I’m Bridgit. So you’re…”

“Dema,” Dema said.

“Then you’re Theora? Welcome. Tea will be ready soon.”

They went through a stuffed apartment with many trinkets and pieces of furniture that had already long-since gone out of fashion when the old décors Theora herself liked so much were still in vogue. Tiled designs with flowery walls and books and little statues lining all the cabinets formed a path into the living room with large chairs.

Bridgit offered them the seats. After plopping down on one with her legs crossed, Dema made a show of leaning back and pulling a notebook and pen out of the breast pocket of her borrowed red flannel blouse. Seeing Dema slumped in the chair like that in her old clothing, Theora’s breath caught.

Then, Bridgit hurried out and back in with plates of cut fruits. “Eat as much as you like.”

Theora took the offer, biting into a slice of sour apple to clear her head. “Apologies for the intrusion.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. Dema was charming on the phone, and I want to help out.”

“Help out?” Theora asked.

“Well, yes.” Bridgit puckered her mouth. “Shame what happened to that girl, least I can do is give answers to people who care. They didn’t even find her and still pretended the case was shut and clear.”

“That’s horrible,” Theora breathed.

Bridgit nodded. “Not even a search! I offered to describe her so they could draw a picture, but they weren’t even interested in that.”

Dema flapped open the notebook, ready to write. “What did she look like?”

“Well, it’s been a while, and it’s not like I saw her all that often,” Bridgit said with a sigh. “But what I remember: very pale. Blond. Shoulder long hair. Skinny, oh so skinny, hurt to look at sometimes, but she didn’t like when I brought food over. Light eyes, yes.”

As the description went on, Dema started shifting on her chair.

“So when you saw her,” Theora started, “Did she—” She choked on the question. This was probably the only chance she had to find out more about who Amanda had been. And so, she gathered herself to ask again. “Did she seem unhappy?”

Bridgit tutted. “Why, yes. She did.” Her eyes flashed up knowingly. “But I didn’t know her well enough to say if it went that far. As far as… not wanting to be here anymore. But I would guess it’s possible.”

“So you’re saying she ran away?” Dema asked.

The woman took a deep breath. “Honey, I don’t think she could have run anywhere.” Her eyes went over Dema’s body. “Surprises me you even made it up the stairs, to be honest.”

Dema shrugs. “Worst case, Theora carries me.”

Letting out a huff, Bridgit continued, “Rest up before you leave, will you? But Amanda was the same. Her body was fickle. Couldn’t have made it far, without her things, even. I doubt she could even walk to the station without her legs giving in.”

That prompted Bridgit to get up and scurry into the kitchen, to return with cups of apricot flavoured fruit tea. She made sure to push a plate of cookies close to Dema as well.

She hesitated after sitting back down, and took a deep breath. “That said, about the running away — and please don’t take me for a confused old woman — I did have the feeling someone was climbing out the apartment around that time.” She nodded to her balcony. “I’m out there a lot, you know. Can’t sleep well at night, always waking up, so I sit there when sleep won’t take me. And… look, I know how this sounds, but a while before people realised she was gone, I thought I saw something happen in the dark.”

Dema’s eyes widened. “You think…”

Bridgit shrugged, and waved off. “I don’t think she could have possibly climbed anywhere, nor does it seem plausible someone else could have gotten up there without the cameras seeing it. But I’m just saying — that’s what I heard and saw. I told the authorities, but… well. What will you do. Not like it’s making any sense to me either.”

Silence befell the room, only broken by the scratches of Dema’s pen. When she finished jotting things down, her gaze seemed to jump around in them, and her fidgeting returned. “So… back to her appearance… there’s something I gotta check. For example, how tall was she?”

Bridgit looked at the ceiling, combing fingers through her hair. “A little taller than me. But always hunched over so you couldn’t really tell unless you were attentive.” She gave a meaningful nod, maybe to praise herself for being attentive.

Dema swallowed. She glanced at her phone, which she had placed on the armrest. It wasn’t doing anything, nor had it buzzed, but Dema got lost in thought for a second while glaring. Then, she said, “Alright, but like, you said ‘light’ eyes, but they wouldn’t have been green, I guess?”

Bridgit frowned. “No, that does sound about right.”

“Thin eyebrows? Thin mouth?” Dema went on.

“Well, yes. How did you know?”

“Did she… have bangs…?”

“No,” Bridgit said. “Well, rather, her bangs were very short at the centre and branched out to the sides.”

Dema looked completely befuddled.

“Is everything alright?” Theora asked, but Dema was not really listening, instead she picked up her phone and made a call.

When it got through, she asked, “Can you send me a selfie?”

Judging from Dema’s wince, the call immediately disconnected, and she looked at her phone with knitted eyebrows. Then, she waved Theora over, to show her the screen.

Dema had received a photograph of a woman fitting the description Bridgit had just given. She had seemingly taken the picture right where she was with no consideration of what it would look like. Her hair was messy, and she seemed to be sitting at a library space with publicly accessible computers.

Dema showed the picture to Bridgit, who let out a surprised cry. “My gosh, that looks exactly like her!”

“Damn!” Dema said, laughing nervously. “That makes no sense, though, does it? Hold on, I gotta check.” She started another call, and who she called didn’t make sense to Theora either. This time, Dema put her on speaker. “Hey!”

“Hello,” the person replied, a level voice. Bridgit let out a quiet gasp.

“So,” Dema went on, “weird question, but… did you like… have a twin or something?”

Everyone held their breath.

Invent One said, “How would that be possible? I don’t operate on DNA. I assume this relates to your investigation?”