She peered, head and shoulders, into an alley forgotten by lifelong residents, visitors, and street sweeps alike. The small arch was framed on either side by a grande boulevard of three and four story houses. Tonight was dry, but when it snowed their sharply peaked red roofs would beam back at the sun through thick eyelashes of white snow. Each building was painted a different pastel. The one she stood beside, her gloved hand resting on its brickwork, was a soft sunshine yellow. The rest of the bustling street varied without pattern from pale blues and minty greens to pale pinks.

 

While the city about it jostled, this alley was subdued. Even its dirty grey walls screamed an embarrassed sort of quiet compared to the street that held it’s entrance. 

 

‘What’s going on Sarka?’

 

It had taken Paul ten strides and half a missed conversation to look back for her. His head boobed in the busy street, weaving his gaze around and past the evening crowd. Even imitating a fish he looked brilliant. The thick pressed white shirt and double-breasted black jacket flattened and fattened him just where needed. His unusually clean shaven chin was sharp above the obnoxiously convoluted bowtie.

 

The old town’s coloured houses and the warm glow of hand-lit street lamps suited him this evening. Him but not her. She self consciously smoothed the large ruffles that flared fashionably about her hips.

 

‘Can’t you feel it?’ 

 

There were too many people here. She tried to sound as conversational as possible, but he squared his eyebrows, and tilted his head in confusion. That tie still wasn’t lying straight.

 

‘What?’ He said, walking towards her and, after four steps, was eaten by the shadow of the arch.

 

It barely protruded into the street but it’s shadow stretched disproportionately. It was like a conductor had swept their arms and the rolling sounds of violins, harps and cellos had breached the edge of the stage to wash across the rapt audience. Except the audience was Paul and instead of white capped waves it was a dull dimness. His suit and shirt and even the shadow under his chin were stirred together and he was left as a pair of glittering spectacles above a nondescript anyone. 

 

‘Sarka,’ he said testily, ‘we’re already on the brink of unbearable lateness. What in god’s name are you on about?’

 

‘It’s another one Paul. An Remnant. We’ve found one. I can feel it?’

 

‘Really?’

 

‘Absolutely,’ she practically hissed at him in excitement.

 

‘Where?’

 

‘It’s this alley Paul, the whole street!’

 

‘What?’

 

Could the man not speak in more than monosyllabic queries.

 

‘The alley,’ she said gesturing with her free hand while the other stayed anchoring her to the yellow brick wall.

 

‘Look into it, can’t you see, it’s like the whole world stops.’

 

He said nothing for a moment. His glasses pointed past her but his expression was a mystery.

 

‘My god,’ he breathed finally. 

 

‘But how? It’s an entire street. Surely, someone must have noticed this by now? I mean, for god’s sake Sarka, it’s right in the middle of the city. How many thousands of people walk past here every day?’

 

‘You know how Remnants work. We’ve always talked about the possibility of this happening.’

 

‘Well, yes. But those were mostly liquor fuelled chats on evenings when we couldn’t stomach any more facts or absolutes.’

 

‘I know. And I know Gregor was never serious, but really, why not?’

He swallowed audibly.

 

‘We always thought their aura was based on size or impermanence. Or some combination thereof.’ he said slowly. ‘This would change everything.’

 

‘I know,’  she said, leaving the idea hanging between the two of them. They wouldn’t be able to understand the full implications tonight, not out here. But even so, the butterflies in her chest had turned to hummingbirds, and winged acrobatically in the area above her navel. 

 

Her academic daydreams shattered as Paul took a sudden step forwards. She lunged after him, setting sail from the safety of her yellow wall to grasp his arm.

 

‘Paul!’ she rebuked, ‘It’s very likely no one’s been in there for eighty years. Maybe more.’

 

‘I know,’ he said matching her tone, ‘but we have to. We’re here now.’