In- - Searching For- Fraulein Schmitt

She turned, pressed the worn postcard back into his palm, and smiled. “Tell your uncle,” she said, “the search is over.”

Then she stepped into the sunlight of a new century, leaving the garden to fold itself into a single, ordinary rosebush—blooming out of season, and fragrant with Schubert. Searching for- fraulein schmitt in-

The faded ink on the postcard read: Searching for Fräulein Schmitt in the Garden of Forking Paths. She turned, pressed the worn postcard back into