I focused back on the entrance of the lobby. It was 6:20 people in shorts and sweats with dogs slowly filtered in. I can see Frankie had the foresight to print a helpful sign for the party goers. “Nice touch on the with the lamination.” People loved it when you notice the effort they put into the small stuff. Especially Frankie, It made his day anytime anyone would compliment him.

“Thanks, I thought it would be useful to use the old lamy for the occasion. I thought of adding some confetti but that seems a bit childish.” He took a sip of coffee, and I could see in his memories that he tried it. He even tried adding a dog treat to it and a collar.

I looked at the sign and the pillar it was on, “Maybe some lines in style of the supporting pillars. Make it fit the establishment not the occasion.” I took out my own note pad and scribbled for a second. Then turning the book to Frankie I trace the straight line on the side from the bottom to the top that turned into a half spiral.

“A template for any other occasion that is professional and informative.” I gave the book to him and the pencil. “Have a go at it. Sometimes some straight lines are all you need.” He nodded and opened the book. He whistled as he went through my sketches.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin this collection you have here.” He said as he stopped on a particularly beautiful sketch I have been struggling with. “What is this one about?”

“You tell me. I personally, have been struggling with it.” I looked up to the lobby and sipped my coffee. More people brought dogs while others brought their babies. On further inspection it was actually just dogs in prams.

“Fear.” Frankie finally said. I looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. On the page was a mess of black lines, circling a white sphere. “A bit a general art piece in my opinion. Has been overdone quite a bit.” The tortured artist theme was starting to get a lot more traction these days.

Frankie turned the page quickly and kept going until he found a blank page. “If I was in that dark space, I would be terrified. Or just dark rooms in general.” He said jokingly, His compulsive need to help made him always try to keep the mood happy.

“Are you sure I can write in your book? “I could see he was a little more concerned about the mess of art than I initially thought. The flashes of his past came up, Sadness and jealousy.

I placed my hand on his shoulder and connected myself to his pattern. I increased the pulse ever so slightly and relaxed the fibres of his thoughts “Of course, Art is a beautiful way to express yourself. It doesn’t matter if you want to make a nice sign or a stick figure. You’re only limited by yourself and what you want.”

His fingers tightened on the pencil, and he smiled. I disconnected from him and patted him on the shoulder. “If you want art lessons, we can set something up. Just move the pencil and we can see about technique later.” He nodded and got to it.

He was scribbling like he found a new passion. I on the other hand was looking at people coming and going. It felt like the pit of my life slowly got brighter with the people I added to it. I wasn’t alone, not anymore.

That mysterious man, whoever he was. He had more than me to worry about. I looked over my shoulder, my watcher and sentinel, slowly learning a new skill. Once I perfect a memory transplant, I was sure I could increase his speed tenfold.

“I was hoping. Once Agnes has a free moment could you help me set up a meeting? Without Sarah of course. No need to have a shouting match again.” I needed a list of the tenants and a building plan.

The mysterious man had been here for 2 hours. With or without someone. if it was with someone It would be easier to see if anyone had gaps in their memories. If he could be selective of his targets, I had a way in from there.

If not, his whole existence would be a lonely one. Talking with anyone about anything without having to worry about the consequences. I imagine he never had someone like me to worry about.

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“Ever thought of being a sketch artist for the police Frank? With how you identify and memorise anyone you come by, if we can get your fingers to put your thoughts on paper you would be indispensable at a police station.”

It was a goal that aligned easily with mine. An idea that already played on his dreams of being a spy. He could be my way into the police force, or at the very least my camera on the lobby.

“It was an idea; I already have a friend on the force. But I could never do anything more complicated than two lines.” His sadness resurfaced. His best friend a police officer. He couldn’t even make it past the fitness test. His mind far outpaced his thoughts. Where he could remember the junkie 2 weeks ago by the shape of his chin, he couldn’t do anything about catching him.

“How about three lines? and then we go to 4. If every day you could add 1 detail. 1 line to the picture. And the next week you do 2 lines a day. You could be an artist like me in no time.” Frank looked to me and sighed.

“If it was that simple everyone would do it.” His thought lines faded and slowed. I tapped the book in hands.

“It is that simple Frank. You did it the last 2 hours.” The page he was filled with simple line art. It was a beautiful mess of man that had fun. No shapes, just lines wandering the page, neither crossing nor colliding. Branching and meeting in places without rhyme or reason.

“Get me a meeting with Agnes and as fair payment. I know you love being fair. Then we can do a lesson in my studio.” I took the last sip of my coffee then, savouring the strong taste. His eyes were glued to the page.

“Martin, you’re a far more empathetic than you realise.” He chuckled and handed back my book and pencil. I smiled and placed it to the side. “And you are far too young to give up on dreams. Even while you are an old fart.” I said with a chuckle as well.

“Let’s teach an old dog new tricks shall we.” I stood and patted him on the shoulder one last time before heading for the elevator. “No skipping classes either!” I shouted over my shoulder. I would need consistent contact to enforce new habits. I would do it right the first time. No screw ups this time.

The elevator dinged; I stepped inside. Once the doors closed, I dropped the smile and checked my watch. 8:20 pm.

I still had a few hours for Cath.

I stepped out at my floor and made my way to my apartment. My door was closed as I left it. But the studio was door was open. I had the studio made soundproof, as a result I had to slam the door close to make a nice seal. It seems my visitor had no clue.

I was inside in a moment and looked around. Nothing was missing. I couldn’t find anything that was added. It was a little mystery for later.

Then the memory of the mystery man refreshed in my head. I frowned and looked around again. My eyes rolled over the room, I relaxed as I found nothing. I closed my eyes and looked inside myself, searching for the paranoia plaguing me. Then the memory of the mystery man refreshed in my head. My brain pulsed, the contradictions pulling it every which way.

A headache formed as I took a step outside. I was starting to get angrier at this man, I couldn’t understand why. Instead of going back in I reviewed the memory of me inspecting the room. My eyes sweeping from the left to the right.

On the mantle just below the portrait of my father, was a framed picture of nothing. I couldn’t see what it was. It wasn’t pitch black, nor was it white. I couldn’t see what it was, I was staring at nothing, and it knew.

I took a breath and closed my eyes, I opened the door again and stepped inside. Then slowly making my way to the nearby fireplace I felt around for the picture frame, finger moving over the rough surface. once I found it, I laid it flat on its face. Ever so slowly I opened my eyes. Behind the picture, a microphone with a transmitter attached.

“Cath! Where are you darling!” I called out. If they wanted to listen, I would give them a something to listen to. I would need to check the main rooms and the bedroom as well when I had the chance. I set up another memory back up of the microphone and turned to where Cath was on her chair.

“There you are darling!” I scooped her up and set her down on the display stage in the middle of the room. “You ready for your grooming?” I took out a her faviourate brush and brushed her fur. While I was pampering the creature I had one hand on her head. My tendrils attached to her skull and snaked into her mind.

As I prepped her, I made a copy of a memory, I was coughing incessantly as dust was blown in my face the first time I came here. “How’s my good girl feeling?” I asked playing it up. I sliced at the backup. The strands connecting the feelings and emotions to the memory came loose, where the strands of the memory detached I held the tiny pattern from unravelling. The urge to cough built up as the idea became simpler. The sensations of the memory were stronger without extra complexity. My throat felt scratchy, my breath hitched for a moment.

In that moment, I attached it to Cath and severed my own connection. The feeling vanished. Suddenly Cath had a Terrible cough as she tried to expel the imaginary dust from her throat. “Aww baby, are you okay?” I ask in fake panic and pat her on the back.

I smiled as Cath continued to cough for a second more. The small expel of air from the small creature gave me satisfaction. I was sure the normals would call it cute if they saw it. It was the second success I had today, it could only get better.