364. - Missax

Lena spun around. The photograph was unchanged. But now she noticed something new. In the river at Missax’s feet, a small face floated beneath the water. A face with Lena’s eyes.

She loaded the microfilm.

She called in sick the next day. And the day after. Her supervisor left a voicemail: “Lena, did you take something from Box 364? Return it. Please. Some doors close best from the outside.” 364. Missax

She pulled it down. The cardboard was cold, almost clammy. Inside lay a single photograph, a spool of microfilm, and a handwritten note on paper so old it felt like dried skin. Lena spun around