Frustrated by the rain, Nicòle brushed off her coat in the doorway of an old pawn shop.
A small girl and her father conversed behind the counter. Nicòle slowly made her way to the front, transfixed by the hundreds of useless objects littering the shelves.

“But Papa, why would he not remember us? We are his family, non?”
“Ma fille cadette, it has been a long time since he has seen us. He left many years ago. He is different now. We must let him be.”
The little girl seemed defeated by her father’s comments and began to fiddle with the ribbons on her dress. A few minutes passed before she spoke again, barely a whisper.
“Shall we tell her we have seen Henri? She would want to know, Papa.” The girl turned but her father grabbed her arm.
“No, Genevieve. She has suffered enough.”

Nicòle went to ask them about Henri and his whereabouts, before she saw the girl in the shadows. She looked older, with short red hair and tired eyes. She seemed familiar.
Nicòle’s eyes lit up with recognition; she had met her before.