“It’s a method of measurement…” Nicòle shook her head. “It’s all very confusing. It is said that when used properly, one can create new dimensions… My father used to always tell me ‘Niko, there is more to life than rulers.’ It wasn’t until after he died that I learned what he meant.”
Henri was silent. Rummaging through papers and empty bottles, he found what he had tried to cover up so many times.
“Like this?” He showed her the small hole in the floor.
“Mon Dieu! The mole! I never been able to…” Nicòle turned to him fearfully. “How long has this been here?”
“I am not certain. I painted ‘Avogadro’ on the wall, and my brush fell through it.”
“Have you tried passing through it?”
“I have been afraid to do so. Perhaps, if we do it together…” Nicòle pulled two pens from her pockets and widened the hole. “Ladies first.” Henri mumbled.