The envelope had no threat in it. That was what made Mira read it twice.
It had arrived through a commercial messenger, addressed to her lawyer’s office rather than the shelter. Inside lay an invitation to discuss gate fatalities whose causes remained unexplained, an appointment time, and a list of records supposedly available for inspection. The list contained seven entries. Most meant nothing to her. The fourth had a date she had once counted backward from for three sleepless nights.
She put a finger beside it. She did not touch the paper itself until the lawyer asked whether she wanted gloves or merely a moment.
“A moment,” Mira said.
The date belonged to the other life. A departure roster, a broken promise, two people who had not come back. She had never found a body for either. Here the entry named an operation rather than either person, but the location and interval were close enough to make indifference impossible.
The lawyer waited. When Mira looked up, she said, “A meeting isn’t an exception to your conditions merely because an important person offers it.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to decline?”
