“Where did she go?”
Poor Fran and Cor, in this day and age people are not supposed to disappear, or at least, not like that.
They still do though. Despite their understandable confusion.
Over a thousand people daily step from the trammels of their well traversed trajectories never to be seen or heard of again.
Fran and Cor, together, ran to the spot of Min’s disappearance and gazed down at the ground in silent disbelief.
There, tugged by the air, but steadfastly refusing to go anywhere, unlike Min, was her Guided Walk Itinerary.
Fran sank to to her knees and was about to pick it up.
“Leave it,” said Cor, “let it serve as a marker.”
“A marker for what? No one will ever believe us. They’ll think we killed her.”
“I know, but I have an idea.”
“It had better be good…”
“An arrow far flown,” murmured Cor.
“It’s a technique for finding things that are lost,” said Cor.
“Well, Min is certainly lost,” said Fran.
“If you lose a ball or an arrow or something, you throw or fire another one in roughly the same direction and then watch carefully where it lands.”
“But we didn’t throw a ball or shoot an arrow,” said Fran, her tone skirting the edges of hysteria, “this is Min we’re talking about and she is no longer here!”
“I know, but can you remember what she said?”
“What she said when?”
“Just before she disappeared?”
“I think so…”
“Good, then you can play Min, and I’ll be us.”
“A reconstruction,” said Fran, uncertainly, “it’ll never work.”
“Quite possibly not,” said Cor forlornly, “but it’s all we’ve got.”